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This one was different, though. The ambiguous smell of a traveller carried a swirl of budding ownership that were not recognizable as one those that had tracked through the city since early spring. This newly discovered scent path guided her down a street with slow, rhythmic steps, nice and easy and--crash! Broken glass sang out from beyond the next cross street, mildly startling the small lady. And like any wise woman, she was quick to brush it off and B-line it for the source of perceived destruction.
After rounding the corner, the store was easily identifiable for the small puddle of broken glass. Not that broken store fronts was anything near unusual--but the gasps of sun the pieces reflected as she approached were brighter than the dirt-caked neighbors. She looked very near dainty in her yellow, ribbon-waisted sundress, stepping carefully between glass shards into the doorway. But it was short-lived as she slouched into her typical hip-jutted posture and smiled her sharp-toothed fairy grin, and folded her arms toughly across her chest. "Breaking and entering," she tisked with a shake of her head, "My, my. This city just ain't what it used to be," she sighed in overplayed disapproval while her eyes took in the stranger's form. Immediately, his taste for clothing (the tweed hat was, in short, swoon-worthy to her eyes) caught her attention and affection, and his face tugged at some long-ago memory in the back of her head. A fond memory, but a far off one no less.
