AS EXPECTED, BUSINESS was initially slow.
On most days Georgia and I would sit in the front-of-house by the counter and watch the sun move through the newly uniform windows from East to West.
I could not afford to have the broken windows fixed, so Georgia brilliantly suggested that we completely shatter the ones with great shards as the remains, and cover them with more tarpaulin-grams. So some had glass and some had a semi-holographic film; in an almost consistent one-after-the-other pattern.
Thus far, a week after reopening, I had sold three dreams. Of course I had not anticipated a throng of customers —I understood that the desolate and abandoned state of the world would negatively affect sales. There simply were not many people.
The sky was now darkening and Georgia was yawning, having been woken up numerous times throughout the night from me coming in and out of the back room to line the shelves with filled jars and bottles.
Creating dreams was becoming easier.
"You may go to sleep," I told the teenager, "if you wish."
"Not tired," she murmured, rapping her nails gently on the counter. Her other hand held up her chin.
"I will be fine on my own," I assured.
"I...won't," she surprisingly admitted.
I frowned, finding the statement a cause for concern. She had been in there on her own all of this time. Why was today any different?
YOU ARE READING
Song of Mist and Storm | I ✓
Fantasy☆ WATTPAD FEATURED & WATTYS 2022 SHORTLISTED ☆ [ 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙮𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡 ] ❝ You are a beginning. ❞ ▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁ Sharp and opinionated Purple is one of the last residents of what's left of...