Gizmo, owner of her own shop Curiosities and Oddities, was everything and anything one wold expect of a woman of her time. Independant. Smart. A soon to be spinster. Bitter. Inventor. Mad scientist. Harlot. or so the rumors go. ~~ "Miss Gizmo!" I peered up from the latest addition to my shop, the two headed swine was an interesting find but oddly hard to sell, "Hello Mr Earnheart how's the leg?" The older man grinned broadly at me, "don't tell my wife dear girl but you are an angel sent from the lord himself." That I doubted severely. "not a single problem thanks to you, you really must stop by for dinner as a thanks sometime." I sighed, "ah but your ninny wife would be terribly convinced we were committing sin with one another." He laughed, despite the fact I had just called his wife a ninny, waving me off. "bollocks, you deserve a good home cooked meal and some company now and again." Did I now? "I see." "Yes, and my nephew is here in London for the time being, I am sure he would be delighted to meet you." Another old man trying to marry me into the family? I shook my head, "I assure you I am fine without such attentions Mr. Earnheart." He shook his head, "your seventeen now, two more years and you will start earning the title of spinster. I married my wife when she was fourteen." Marriage again, why does everyone insist upon talking marriage, its such a dreadfully boring topic, "I'm afraid I'm married to my work, unfortunately a woman cannot have two loves and thus one would end in divorce. I can honestly say my shop will not be my divorcée." He looked disappointed but knew me well enough to drop the subject, "oh and miss Gizmo?" "hmmm?" "My wife say's there is a rumor of man poking around the back alleys of London, shady one at that. Be careful when walking home?" I pulled my pistol from its hidden place amongst my clothes, "I'm one you need to worry about, I assure you."

*Sequel to Antidepressant*

*mature rating because of language* * TRIGGER WARNING * This is the rewrite of Learning How To Laugh Again. I feel confined within these walls that are depression, these walls that are glass, these walls that are closing in. Everyone peers in, unsure of how to act, so they just watch. They watch me get crushed between these walls. All except one.

I'm her...this is my story.