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Bread
Mar 8, 2006 19:55:14 GMT -5
Post by Sloe Tamorgin on Mar 8, 2006 19:55:14 GMT -5
Bread. Warm and fluffy, good for any occasion....That was how Sloe thought of it at least. She leaned quiety on her tiny wooden stall, a basket of fresh-baked bread in her hand. Her long curls blew in the slow, cool breeze, and her wings fluttered back and forth ever so slowly. It was a sunny day in the marketplace and no clouds hovered to ruin the pure azure sky.
"'Ey, Sloe!" called a chubby, middle-aged woman, waving cheerfully from her own stall. Her graying hair was wrapped into a frizzy bun and she wore a juice-stained apron over her pale blue dress. On the stand were piles of fruits, each neatly organized.
"Hello," Sloe called softly, smiling.
"Slow?" called a man from his stall, chuckling. "Heh, yeah, the Fayes normally aren't the brightest people!"
"S-l-o-e, not S-l-o-w," Sloe cried, turning red. The wind blew harder and knocked several of the quills off the man's desk. "Control your emotions," Sloe whispered, closing her eyes fearfully.
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