Unto Dust

001.

The trickiest part was attracting the right customers. For any business there were slow, languid days where not even a fly would pass by, just as there were days when customers lined up down the street, bought off all her merchandise, forcing Fiona to close up shop for the week while she scrambled to restock. Though the day had begun resembling the former, a slow day could easily be overturned by the right customers.

And there they approached, she thought, watching the gaggle of children draw near. They were not officially under her employment, but they were the closest thing she had to employees.

"Whatja think?" she asked.

In eerie unison, they turned and squinted into the distance, where a group of chortling young women strolled. Fiona had heard them before she had seen them. Their chipper voices carried above the bustle of the shops around them. They were yet too far away for her to tell proper, but experience told her loud customers had, among other benefits, deep pockets. That is, if they were sober. But it was unlikely these women had taken drink when the sun was yet high.

Only one of the children had not turned around with the others. Enjo grinned at her instead, showing off the gaps where he was missing teeth. He had probably eyed them before she had. He looked the most ragged, but he was also the sharpest.

Or perhaps, he was the most ragged because he was the sharpest.

"Course we need to use 'love', boss."

Fiona flapped her hand at them. "Off with you then."

Enjo held out fingers that were grubby with dirt. "Flowers, boss."

The children behind him followed suit, holding out their hands to her with palms outstretched, chorusing, "Flowers, boss."

She pulled out a basket of flowers she'd clipped that morning for expressly this purpose and passed it to the little boy. He took a few flowers, then passed the basket around until all of them held a flower or two. Finally, the empty basket was handed back to her. Gleefully, they ran off. Fiona gazed after them, a small smile playing on her lips as they screeched WOULD YOU LIKE SOME FLOWERS? at the top of their lungs.

"What is love, Miss Fi?" said a subdued voice next to her. Timid Suli usually stayed behind when the other children ran out to find customers. She twisted a dark lock of hair between her fingers. "Is it something you give? If I give flowers, is that love?"

"I suppose."

"When Enjo gives girls flowers they start to smile. Maybe if I give Pa flowers, he will smile, too." Fiona was trying to think of something to say when Suli tapped her. "They're coming."

Sure enough, the children had succeeded in luring the unsuspecting women to the stand. They were holding the fragile flowers in their hands as they approached, completely disarmed by the young boys and girls who had brought them here.

Fiona whistled a low tone, then a high tone.

Then slowly, as though yawning awake from a deep sleep, the myriad of trinkets, assorted charms, and scattering of housewares set up in the little makeshift shop came to life. Tiny stone cube called flits glowed steadily with a firm, warm light. Glass charms with images—birds, flowers, cats, and more—sparkled with the sunlight. It was these charms that the girls oohed and ahhed over first. They were simple but impressive, with the images captured inside appearing to move when held up to the sun.

"He told us we could find love here," piped up a girl with blonde ringlets. She was examining a cat charm, turning it this way and that. "These are perfectly adorable but how might they help us find love?"