rare and sweet as cherry wine

oc rp blog|MINORS DNI|mun is 20

[macabre-divinity]

"Welcome to the Rosewood Tea Shop."

The woman who greets you at the door, presumably the owner, regards you with a kind smile, though you can't see her teeth. Her apron is white with flowers printed on it.

The shop itself has a cosy air to it, shelves stocked nearly to the ceiling with boxes of teabags. Each display has a clear glass teapot over a small, contained fire, filled with the tea it displays. Beside those teapots are sugar bowls and little disposable cups, the stack propping up a sign that states that customers may try the tea, free of charge.

The walls are painted a lighter shade of beige, the tablecloths on the display tables all a gorgeous shade of crimson. The shelves are of dark brown oak.

"Are you looking for anything in particular or are you here to taste-test?"

————————————————————————

Name: Birta Cheung

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 115

DoB: 12/10/1909

PoB: Húsavík, Iceland

Height: 6'0"

————————————————————————

Rules & Guidelines

[sersh]

LAUFEY Makeup by Florrie White and hair styled by Sebastien Bascle ahead of the Chloé FW25 show at Paris Fashion Week on March 6th 2025

[cutevintagetoys]

🌸 My Fair Lady Dress 🌸

[macabre-divinity]

Something creeps around the store. Crawling over the shelves, tiny paws padding over the jars of various teas. Pickles even stares at her own reflection in the kettle, bumping her head against it a few times before moving around it. Until she realizes she can’t get down from the shelf. After crawling out from a crack in the wall, now she’s stuck on a shelf beside the stairs. She starts to scream.

Sidney keeps checking out the window, which is still bolted shut and the grate pulled over. Her little crib is empty, and now he’s checking loose floorboards in case she’s fallen through.

@once-minted-made-vinted

Birta has noticed something crawling around recently. At first she thinks it's just her imagination, electing to ignore the almost unnoticeable bumping against the teacups — maybe someone's just making a bit of noise in the shop next door, Sidney's shop if she remembers correctly.

Then she hears the feeble screaming of something very small in the quiet of the almost empty shop and suddenly she's very sure it's not just her imagination as she rushes over to the shelf to see what's causing all the noise.

"Oh! Hello there, little one," she says softly to the little thing seemingly trapped on the shelf, carefully scooping her up. "Where'd you come from?"

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Pickles had almost made a comfortable bed in a displayed teacup, bobbing her head around to find a landing spot from the shelf. Screaming continuously until she’s finally rescued, quickly curling up into Birtas hand. A tiny collar clinks around her neck, a little engraved tag that just states “Pickles”. Blinking up at her, placing a paw on her thumb.

Suddenly, she’s not bothered over being in the tea shop and lost. It’s not the first time she’s slipped in here and sniffed around, but she didn’t expect a shelf to trap her.

[macabre-divinity]

Birta doesn't expect for the kitten to curl up in her hand so quickly, given that she's a stranger to her, but she certainly isn't complaining because she's adorable. Birta considers simply keeping the kitten until someone claims her, but then she sees the tag.

"Well hello, Pickles," she says to the kitten with a smile, walking back over to the counter and gently depositing her in a teacup there. "What are you doing so far from home?" Sure it's not that far but Pickles is tiny so it must've felt like quite the odyssey for her.

Just as she thinks about carrying Pickles back to her rightful owner, the bell on the door of the shop rings.

Ah. Well she supposes it'll have to wait until later.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Completely contented to be carried around, Pickles keeps her paw on her carriers fingers until she’s lowered into her favourite sleeping spot. Cool enough to beat the heat that festered in the flats upstairs, with enough room to curl up in without anything else crawling in. One more scream as she’s lowered in, settling into the cup for a nice nap.

He can feel the grey hairs prickling through his scalp. Lifting up box after box, scattering treats over the floor, emptying laundry baskets over the bed to find her. Sidney keeps checking everywhere, running down into the shop and sifting through more boxes. Such a state he’s whipped into, he doesn’t realize he’s walking around in a terrible pair of shorts and a tshirt he hasn’t seen since high school. Over an hour since Pickles disappeared, he starts checking out the neighbouring shops.

Practically barreling through the door to Birtas shop, panting as he points to the street outside. “Pickle?”

[macabre-divinity]

Well nevermind then.

Birta is a little taken aback when Sidney enters the shop. He's in such a state that she genuinely worries for his wellbeing for a moment, almost forgetting that she has his cat. "Sidney–?"

It's only when he asks that she realises why he's in such a state in the first. "She's right here, don't worry." She points to the teacup on the counter before getting up to gingerly guide Sidney to sit down. "She's asleep, just take a moment to breathe, dear."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Red faced and teary eyed, Sidney is on the cusp of another breakdown. Each breath ragged and wheezy, trying to explain what Pickles looks like with a game of charades led by a man being electrocuted with every movement. He lets himself be moved onto the chair, blubbering about Pickles and how he can’t find her.

“I don’t, god I don’t know where she went-“ he cries, doubling over on the chair and trying to stop himself from actually crying in front of her.

[macabre-divinity]

As carefully as possible, as not to wake her, Birta scoops Pickles out of the teacup she'd been sleeping in. Then she sits down across from Sidney.

"Sidney, dear, look," she says softly, gently holding one of his hands with her free hand. "She's here, okay? Perfectly alright."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Sidney is almost in floods of tears, sniffling loudly as he forces himself to imagine where she might be. Lost out in the streets, shivering in the cold, slipping into a storm drain and gone forever. Squeezing her hand tightly as he sobs, gasping for air. Until she finally presents Pickles, fast asleep in the palm of her hand.

“My baby! God…where did you find her?” Clutching at her hand, quickly attempting to clean up his face with his shoulder.

[macabre-divinity]

"She was walking along one of the shelves over there — I've no idea how she got there," Birta explains, gently squeezing Sidney's hand. "I was about to bring her back to you when you walked in."

She's glad he begins to calm down — it'd been rather saddening to see him so beside himself. She's also glad that Pickles was safely in her shop instead of lost outside somewhere.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Besides Birta, his little baby kitten was the only source of daily interaction that he had. Something he could protect, a purely good thing that he had in his life. Sniffling and covering his eyes, hoping that he can compose himself and recover his image with his only proper friend. “I’m so sorry, that’s just embarrassing…” he apologizes, looking down at Pickles curled up in her hand.

“Thank you, I’ve been worried sick over her for the last hour. She’s just…she’s a lot to me.”

[macabre-divinity]

"There's no need to apologise, dear; it was a reasonable response." She means it sincerely — Pickles clearly means a lot to Sidney so losing her must've been horrible.

She smiles softly at him as he thanks her. "It's no trouble at all, honestly. Here, would you like to take her?"

[macabre-divinity]

Something creeps around the store. Crawling over the shelves, tiny paws padding over the jars of various teas. Pickles even stares at her own reflection in the kettle, bumping her head against it a few times before moving around it. Until she realizes she can’t get down from the shelf. After crawling out from a crack in the wall, now she’s stuck on a shelf beside the stairs. She starts to scream.

Sidney keeps checking out the window, which is still bolted shut and the grate pulled over. Her little crib is empty, and now he’s checking loose floorboards in case she’s fallen through.

@once-minted-made-vinted

Birta has noticed something crawling around recently. At first she thinks it's just her imagination, electing to ignore the almost unnoticeable bumping against the teacups — maybe someone's just making a bit of noise in the shop next door, Sidney's shop if she remembers correctly.

Then she hears the feeble screaming of something very small in the quiet of the almost empty shop and suddenly she's very sure it's not just her imagination as she rushes over to the shelf to see what's causing all the noise.

"Oh! Hello there, little one," she says softly to the little thing seemingly trapped on the shelf, carefully scooping her up. "Where'd you come from?"

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Pickles had almost made a comfortable bed in a displayed teacup, bobbing her head around to find a landing spot from the shelf. Screaming continuously until she’s finally rescued, quickly curling up into Birtas hand. A tiny collar clinks around her neck, a little engraved tag that just states “Pickles”. Blinking up at her, placing a paw on her thumb.

Suddenly, she’s not bothered over being in the tea shop and lost. It’s not the first time she’s slipped in here and sniffed around, but she didn’t expect a shelf to trap her.

[macabre-divinity]

Birta doesn't expect for the kitten to curl up in her hand so quickly, given that she's a stranger to her, but she certainly isn't complaining because she's adorable. Birta considers simply keeping the kitten until someone claims her, but then she sees the tag.

"Well hello, Pickles," she says to the kitten with a smile, walking back over to the counter and gently depositing her in a teacup there. "What are you doing so far from home?" Sure it's not that far but Pickles is tiny so it must've felt like quite the odyssey for her.

Just as she thinks about carrying Pickles back to her rightful owner, the bell on the door of the shop rings.

Ah. Well she supposes it'll have to wait until later.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Completely contented to be carried around, Pickles keeps her paw on her carriers fingers until she’s lowered into her favourite sleeping spot. Cool enough to beat the heat that festered in the flats upstairs, with enough room to curl up in without anything else crawling in. One more scream as she’s lowered in, settling into the cup for a nice nap.

He can feel the grey hairs prickling through his scalp. Lifting up box after box, scattering treats over the floor, emptying laundry baskets over the bed to find her. Sidney keeps checking everywhere, running down into the shop and sifting through more boxes. Such a state he’s whipped into, he doesn’t realize he’s walking around in a terrible pair of shorts and a tshirt he hasn’t seen since high school. Over an hour since Pickles disappeared, he starts checking out the neighbouring shops.

Practically barreling through the door to Birtas shop, panting as he points to the street outside. “Pickle?”

[macabre-divinity]

Well nevermind then.

Birta is a little taken aback when Sidney enters the shop. He's in such a state that she genuinely worries for his wellbeing for a moment, almost forgetting that she has his cat. "Sidney–?"

It's only when he asks that she realises why he's in such a state in the first. "She's right here, don't worry." She points to the teacup on the counter before getting up to gingerly guide Sidney to sit down. "She's asleep, just take a moment to breathe, dear."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Red faced and teary eyed, Sidney is on the cusp of another breakdown. Each breath ragged and wheezy, trying to explain what Pickles looks like with a game of charades led by a man being electrocuted with every movement. He lets himself be moved onto the chair, blubbering about Pickles and how he can’t find her.

“I don’t, god I don’t know where she went-“ he cries, doubling over on the chair and trying to stop himself from actually crying in front of her.

[macabre-divinity]

As carefully as possible, as not to wake her, Birta scoops Pickles out of the teacup she'd been sleeping in. Then she sits down across from Sidney.

"Sidney, dear, look," she says softly, gently holding one of his hands with her free hand. "She's here, okay? Perfectly alright."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Sidney is almost in floods of tears, sniffling loudly as he forces himself to imagine where she might be. Lost out in the streets, shivering in the cold, slipping into a storm drain and gone forever. Squeezing her hand tightly as he sobs, gasping for air. Until she finally presents Pickles, fast asleep in the palm of her hand.

“My baby! God…where did you find her?” Clutching at her hand, quickly attempting to clean up his face with his shoulder.

[macabre-divinity]

"She was walking along one of the shelves over there — I've no idea how she got there," Birta explains, gently squeezing Sidney's hand. "I was about to bring her back to you when you walked in."

She's glad he begins to calm down — it'd been rather saddening to see him so beside himself. She's also glad that Pickles was safely in her shop instead of lost outside somewhere.

[macabre-divinity]

Something creeps around the store. Crawling over the shelves, tiny paws padding over the jars of various teas. Pickles even stares at her own reflection in the kettle, bumping her head against it a few times before moving around it. Until she realizes she can’t get down from the shelf. After crawling out from a crack in the wall, now she’s stuck on a shelf beside the stairs. She starts to scream.

Sidney keeps checking out the window, which is still bolted shut and the grate pulled over. Her little crib is empty, and now he’s checking loose floorboards in case she’s fallen through.

@once-minted-made-vinted

Birta has noticed something crawling around recently. At first she thinks it's just her imagination, electing to ignore the almost unnoticeable bumping against the teacups — maybe someone's just making a bit of noise in the shop next door, Sidney's shop if she remembers correctly.

Then she hears the feeble screaming of something very small in the quiet of the almost empty shop and suddenly she's very sure it's not just her imagination as she rushes over to the shelf to see what's causing all the noise.

"Oh! Hello there, little one," she says softly to the little thing seemingly trapped on the shelf, carefully scooping her up. "Where'd you come from?"

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Pickles had almost made a comfortable bed in a displayed teacup, bobbing her head around to find a landing spot from the shelf. Screaming continuously until she’s finally rescued, quickly curling up into Birtas hand. A tiny collar clinks around her neck, a little engraved tag that just states “Pickles”. Blinking up at her, placing a paw on her thumb.

Suddenly, she’s not bothered over being in the tea shop and lost. It’s not the first time she’s slipped in here and sniffed around, but she didn’t expect a shelf to trap her.

[macabre-divinity]

Birta doesn't expect for the kitten to curl up in her hand so quickly, given that she's a stranger to her, but she certainly isn't complaining because she's adorable. Birta considers simply keeping the kitten until someone claims her, but then she sees the tag.

"Well hello, Pickles," she says to the kitten with a smile, walking back over to the counter and gently depositing her in a teacup there. "What are you doing so far from home?" Sure it's not that far but Pickles is tiny so it must've felt like quite the odyssey for her.

Just as she thinks about carrying Pickles back to her rightful owner, the bell on the door of the shop rings.

Ah. Well she supposes it'll have to wait until later.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Completely contented to be carried around, Pickles keeps her paw on her carriers fingers until she’s lowered into her favourite sleeping spot. Cool enough to beat the heat that festered in the flats upstairs, with enough room to curl up in without anything else crawling in. One more scream as she’s lowered in, settling into the cup for a nice nap.

He can feel the grey hairs prickling through his scalp. Lifting up box after box, scattering treats over the floor, emptying laundry baskets over the bed to find her. Sidney keeps checking everywhere, running down into the shop and sifting through more boxes. Such a state he’s whipped into, he doesn’t realize he’s walking around in a terrible pair of shorts and a tshirt he hasn’t seen since high school. Over an hour since Pickles disappeared, he starts checking out the neighbouring shops.

Practically barreling through the door to Birtas shop, panting as he points to the street outside. “Pickle?”

[macabre-divinity]

Well nevermind then.

Birta is a little taken aback when Sidney enters the shop. He's in such a state that she genuinely worries for his wellbeing for a moment, almost forgetting that she has his cat. "Sidney–?"

It's only when he asks that she realises why he's in such a state in the first. "She's right here, don't worry." She points to the teacup on the counter before getting up to gingerly guide Sidney to sit down. "She's asleep, just take a moment to breathe, dear."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Red faced and teary eyed, Sidney is on the cusp of another breakdown. Each breath ragged and wheezy, trying to explain what Pickles looks like with a game of charades led by a man being electrocuted with every movement. He lets himself be moved onto the chair, blubbering about Pickles and how he can’t find her.

“I don’t, god I don’t know where she went-“ he cries, doubling over on the chair and trying to stop himself from actually crying in front of her.

[macabre-divinity]

As carefully as possible, as not to wake her, Birta scoops Pickles out of the teacup she'd been sleeping in. Then she sits down across from Sidney.

"Sidney, dear, look," she says softly, gently holding one of his hands with her free hand. "She's here, okay? Perfectly alright."

[macabre-divinity]

Something creeps around the store. Crawling over the shelves, tiny paws padding over the jars of various teas. Pickles even stares at her own reflection in the kettle, bumping her head against it a few times before moving around it. Until she realizes she can’t get down from the shelf. After crawling out from a crack in the wall, now she’s stuck on a shelf beside the stairs. She starts to scream.

Sidney keeps checking out the window, which is still bolted shut and the grate pulled over. Her little crib is empty, and now he’s checking loose floorboards in case she’s fallen through.

@once-minted-made-vinted

Birta has noticed something crawling around recently. At first she thinks it's just her imagination, electing to ignore the almost unnoticeable bumping against the teacups — maybe someone's just making a bit of noise in the shop next door, Sidney's shop if she remembers correctly.

Then she hears the feeble screaming of something very small in the quiet of the almost empty shop and suddenly she's very sure it's not just her imagination as she rushes over to the shelf to see what's causing all the noise.

"Oh! Hello there, little one," she says softly to the little thing seemingly trapped on the shelf, carefully scooping her up. "Where'd you come from?"

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Pickles had almost made a comfortable bed in a displayed teacup, bobbing her head around to find a landing spot from the shelf. Screaming continuously until she’s finally rescued, quickly curling up into Birtas hand. A tiny collar clinks around her neck, a little engraved tag that just states “Pickles”. Blinking up at her, placing a paw on her thumb.

Suddenly, she’s not bothered over being in the tea shop and lost. It’s not the first time she’s slipped in here and sniffed around, but she didn’t expect a shelf to trap her.

[macabre-divinity]

Birta doesn't expect for the kitten to curl up in her hand so quickly, given that she's a stranger to her, but she certainly isn't complaining because she's adorable. Birta considers simply keeping the kitten until someone claims her, but then she sees the tag.

"Well hello, Pickles," she says to the kitten with a smile, walking back over to the counter and gently depositing her in a teacup there. "What are you doing so far from home?" Sure it's not that far but Pickles is tiny so it must've felt like quite the odyssey for her.

Just as she thinks about carrying Pickles back to her rightful owner, the bell on the door of the shop rings.

Ah. Well she supposes it'll have to wait until later.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Completely contented to be carried around, Pickles keeps her paw on her carriers fingers until she’s lowered into her favourite sleeping spot. Cool enough to beat the heat that festered in the flats upstairs, with enough room to curl up in without anything else crawling in. One more scream as she’s lowered in, settling into the cup for a nice nap.

He can feel the grey hairs prickling through his scalp. Lifting up box after box, scattering treats over the floor, emptying laundry baskets over the bed to find her. Sidney keeps checking everywhere, running down into the shop and sifting through more boxes. Such a state he’s whipped into, he doesn’t realize he’s walking around in a terrible pair of shorts and a tshirt he hasn’t seen since high school. Over an hour since Pickles disappeared, he starts checking out the neighbouring shops.

Practically barreling through the door to Birtas shop, panting as he points to the street outside. “Pickle?”

[macabre-divinity]

Well nevermind then.

Birta is a little taken aback when Sidney enters the shop. He's in such a state that she genuinely worries for his wellbeing for a moment, almost forgetting that she has his cat. "Sidney–?"

It's only when he asks that she realises why he's in such a state in the first. "She's right here, don't worry." She points to the teacup on the counter before getting up to gingerly guide Sidney to sit down. "She's asleep, just take a moment to breathe, dear."

[macabre-divinity]

🍌🍄

🍌 Did your muse ever get a sex related injury? If so, what happened?

"I'm not sure if this quite counts as an injury but in a rather unfortunate turn of events, I managed to get my tooth knocked out while riding my first husband." She pauses to show off the fact that the molar just beside her right canine tooth isn't there. "It wasn't anything particularly rigorous but he moved upwards to quickly and I fell forward and hit my mouth on the bedpost. Not the best night of my life."

🍄 What was your most memorable wet dream?

"Oh gosh, um... Well, there's one I had where someone — I'm not sure who — is fucking me really hard but they aren't dominant in the dream. Instead, I'm praising them for doing exactly as I asked, kissing them and biting along their neck and they sounds so sweet in the dream, whimpering so beautifully for me..." She trails off before blinking a few times, shifting in her seat.

[macabre-divinity]

Something creeps around the store. Crawling over the shelves, tiny paws padding over the jars of various teas. Pickles even stares at her own reflection in the kettle, bumping her head against it a few times before moving around it. Until she realizes she can’t get down from the shelf. After crawling out from a crack in the wall, now she’s stuck on a shelf beside the stairs. She starts to scream.

Sidney keeps checking out the window, which is still bolted shut and the grate pulled over. Her little crib is empty, and now he’s checking loose floorboards in case she’s fallen through.

@once-minted-made-vinted

Birta has noticed something crawling around recently. At first she thinks it's just her imagination, electing to ignore the almost unnoticeable bumping against the teacups — maybe someone's just making a bit of noise in the shop next door, Sidney's shop if she remembers correctly.

Then she hears the feeble screaming of something very small in the quiet of the almost empty shop and suddenly she's very sure it's not just her imagination as she rushes over to the shelf to see what's causing all the noise.

"Oh! Hello there, little one," she says softly to the little thing seemingly trapped on the shelf, carefully scooping her up. "Where'd you come from?"

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Pickles had almost made a comfortable bed in a displayed teacup, bobbing her head around to find a landing spot from the shelf. Screaming continuously until she’s finally rescued, quickly curling up into Birtas hand. A tiny collar clinks around her neck, a little engraved tag that just states “Pickles”. Blinking up at her, placing a paw on her thumb.

Suddenly, she’s not bothered over being in the tea shop and lost. It’s not the first time she’s slipped in here and sniffed around, but she didn’t expect a shelf to trap her.

[macabre-divinity]

Birta doesn't expect for the kitten to curl up in her hand so quickly, given that she's a stranger to her, but she certainly isn't complaining because she's adorable. Birta considers simply keeping the kitten until someone claims her, but then she sees the tag.

"Well hello, Pickles," she says to the kitten with a smile, walking back over to the counter and gently depositing her in a teacup there. "What are you doing so far from home?" Sure it's not that far but Pickles is tiny so it must've felt like quite the odyssey for her.

Just as she thinks about carrying Pickles back to her rightful owner, the bell on the door of the shop rings.

Ah. Well she supposes it'll have to wait until later.

[macabre-divinity]

Something creeps around the store. Crawling over the shelves, tiny paws padding over the jars of various teas. Pickles even stares at her own reflection in the kettle, bumping her head against it a few times before moving around it. Until she realizes she can’t get down from the shelf. After crawling out from a crack in the wall, now she’s stuck on a shelf beside the stairs. She starts to scream.

Sidney keeps checking out the window, which is still bolted shut and the grate pulled over. Her little crib is empty, and now he’s checking loose floorboards in case she’s fallen through.

@once-minted-made-vinted

Birta has noticed something crawling around recently. At first she thinks it's just her imagination, electing to ignore the almost unnoticeable bumping against the teacups — maybe someone's just making a bit of noise in the shop next door, Sidney's shop if she remembers correctly.

Then she hears the feeble screaming of something very small in the quiet of the almost empty shop and suddenly she's very sure it's not just her imagination as she rushes over to the shelf to see what's causing all the noise.

"Oh! Hello there, little one," she says softly to the little thing seemingly trapped on the shelf, carefully scooping her up. "Where'd you come from?"

[untitledmemes]

Sinday Memes for Naughty Headcanons

Fruit and Vegetable Edition

In case of Multimuse, don't forget to specify which one/s! Reblog, do not repost or add

🍎 What gets you in the mood the most? What's their biggest turn-on?

🍌 Did your muse ever get a sex related injury? If so, what happened?

🍑 Foreplay, or straight to business? What do you like to do for foreplay?

🍆 Do you masturbate? If so, how often?

🌶 Are you a sub, dom, or a switch? Do you prefer giving or receiving?

🍋 What is the most sensitive part you enjoy getting touched/played with? Do you have any no-go zones?

🍓 Are you a virgin? If not, when and how did you lose their virginity?

🥕 Have you ever had a threesome/orgy/multiple partners at once? If not, would you like to?

🍇 Oral, Anal or Vaginal? Which one/s do you enjoy most?

🍊 Do you own any toys? Have you used any? What is your favorite?

🍉 Name between 3-5 of your top kinks.

🍍 What is your sexual orientation? What is your romantic orientation?

🍒 Do you have an aftercare routine? What does it look like?

🧅 What is something you always wanted to try sexually but never got to?

🍄 What was your most memorable wet dream?

[macabre-divinity]

07/01/2025, 15:32

It's been a good day at the shop.

A small class had come in on a school trip, undoubtedly suggested by the teacher (one of her favourite regulars, a delightful elderly woman).

Usually Birta dreads letting children into the shop, as they usually mess up displays or leave cups lying about the shop, leaving her to clean up the mess.

However, this class, consisting of only 11 students, was nothing short of delightful, clearly genuinely intrigued by the process Birta carries out to in order to figure out new flavours. Every student participated in the little workshop (guessing specific flavours) with great interest and the teacher (Mrs. Offaly) seemed quite pleased.

As she bids the class farewell, Birta can't help but smile — they all look so happy.

It's been a great day.

[macabre-divinity]

When he’d taken over the shop last year, it was in the dead of winter. Utterly freezing in the flat above, socializing with his neighbours never occurred. An occasional greeting was enough for him at the time, never too worried about making friends. Sidney was a surprise replacement, inheriting the building after the sudden death of a far off relative. The shop was a bit of squeeze, a slightly narrow doorframe he’d had to replace within the first month.

Now baking in the summer, he’s squeezed into a pair of shorts and a Hawaiian shirt while he wanders around the park. There’s very few people he even recognizes, and he’s starting to find the corner of the park with more shade a bit better.

@once-minted-made-vinted

When Birta had heard about the passing of her neighbour, she'd expected their shop to close and likely be repurposed as a coffee shop or something. However, everything kept running.

She never went to check on her neighbour — they'd never actually met and, as it'd been the dead of winter, she never really had any plans to change that. She'd just assumed that someone else inherited the shop and they'd continue ok the path of their predecessor and have no interaction between them.

Until the shopkeepers' gathering.

It's an annual picnic in the park, usually in the summer, with every shopkeeper on that street being invited. Perfect opportunity to make friends or, in actuality, be inconceivably nosy. Either way, it's much to hot out for anyone to enjoy it fully.

Birta has been sitting in the shade since she arrived, comfortably lounging under a tree. Then she spots an unfamiliar face. A gorgeous one at that.

So that's who runs the antiques shop next door.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Fuck this, it was hot enough to evaporate the ink of his poorly done tattoos. Sidney keeps fanning himself with one hand while the other is focused on keeping his popsicle close to his mouth. And those stupid shorts kept riding up every five seconds, he can’t keep walking much longer.

There were some weird questions being asked of him, poking into everything about him before they even know his name. Looking at the awful tattoos, wondering what he was up to all those years before inheriting the shop, why he’s built like that. Weaving his way out of the prying eyes and noses of the others, sitting himself in the shade near someone else. “It’s boiling isn’t it?”

[macabre-divinity]

She watches as the rather large man walks closer to her, checking her bag for an extra fan — the man looks like he's about to burst into flames, both from the heat and the awkward questions.

Luckily, Birta manages to find another fan, right at the bottom of her bag, handing it to him when he sits down. "Mhm.. Never understood why they plan these in the middle of summer."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Leaning over on the seat, he laps up the drippings of the popsicles from his fingers and sucks it off of the stick. It was a fancy one, with cream in the middle and the sweet fruit outside. Nothing like that was in prison, not for a good price. And it wasn’t smuggle-able either. Unless he fancied putting his tongue where the sun didn’t shine (an act he’d never conceived).

“Thanks Miss.” Quickly taking the fan, Sidney starts to cool himself down with it. Shifting about to unbutton the awful patterned shirt, sweat sticking to his skin. “I haven’t met you yet.”

[macabre-divinity]

"No problem." Subtly watching him for a moment as he unbuttons his shirt, Birta is sure that the rest of the street will be talking about him for at least a month after this.

She's startled when he speaks to her again. "Hm? Oh, we haven't had a chance to meet yet. I'm Birta, I run the the Rosewood Tea Shop. You?" She holds out her hand for him to shake.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Hot as hell out here. Prison had better AC, he could’ve done better with it. Sidney didn’t think he’d ever feel nostalgic about it, but the sun beating down on the park makes him think of the same days sheltered in the yard. There weren’t ever shorts like that in prison. “Is it always this hot out here?”

Tea shop? “Oh, you’re my neighbour then. I run the antiques store next to you. Sidney, nice to meet you Birta.” Stuffing the rest of the popsicle in his mouth, he switches the fan into the other hand and finally shakes hers. “Sorry, popsicle melted.”

[macabre-divinity]

"Only from June to August," she responds to his question about the weather — it's pretty much always hot in the summertime but it's better than the rain in spring, in her opinion.

Birta regrets shaking his hand when she finds that it's sticky, trying not to make the discomfort too clear on her face. "It's nice to meet you too, Sidney."

When she lets go of his hand, she hands him a wet wipe.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Fuck sake, he’d thought it was better. Ruining her hand with the sticky remains of the popsicles, Sidney looks down at the grass while reluctantly taking the cloth from her. “Sorry Miss Birta, can’t believe how fast that melted.” Feeling rather stuck to the bench seat as his shorts roll up and stick sweaty thighs to the wood, he pulls at the remains of the stick to slowly break it apart. 

“They’re really loud aren’t they? That little woman with a hat like a dead bird.” Nervous laughter rattles out of his lungs, hoping that she’s still bothering to listen. 

[macabre-divinity]

"It's fine, really," she attempts to reassure him, trying to distract herself from sticky feeling on her hand when she registers the fact that he called her "Miss Birta". It feels awfully formal, not that that's a bad thing. "Miss? Please, there's no need to be so formal — just Birta is fine."

Glancing at the woman Sidney mentions, she chuckles. "Yeah, they're always like that. You get used to it eventually. Try not to tell her too much about yourself; she tends to gossip." It's a lighthearted warning, but she speaks from experience.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Think I’ve already said too much. She’s already gotten me for not being able to figure out what she meant by an electronic payment. I don’t really know still.” Sidney smiles at her, hoping that she’ll stay near enough that no other shopkeepers will try and talk. There’s a few too many for him to handle, with the added uncomfortableness of sweat and clothes clinging to him.

God, what else is he supposed to say to her? Birta already seems a little digested by his sticky hands, and his lacklustre conversational skills can’t be helping him. “I like the…smell from your shop.”

[macabre-divinity]

"Oh dear," Birta says as she returns his smile. "Don't worry, I don't understand them either." She has been trying to figure it out though — until she does, her shop is strictly cash only.

Funnily enough, the conversation is making up for the sticky hands greatly. She already prefers him over his predecessor. "Oh, thank you... I've been meaning to check out your shop for a while but haven't had the chance yet."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

As the shade finally gives him solace, Sidney manages to feel the sweat stop and settle on his skin. “I’ve not had the time to have a look at yours, or anything down the street. It’s a bit of a mess in the shop, got left in a bit of a state after last guy died. Bruce or something.” He was so far off related, he couldn’t be sure how he was the first in line to take it.

“It’s not too bad here, is it? Think I’ll like it here, if I ever get settled in.” Luckily, the old man hadn’t died in the flats upstairs, but it was impossible to get together.

[macabre-divinity]

"If you'd like, I could help you clean up? I close early on Sundays," she offers, genuinely willing to help him out if he needs it — she recalls the previous owner never letting anyone come to fix the place up at all, despite how many problems every building on this street has, structurally.

Birta hums quietly, taking a sip from her bottle of water before looking at Sidney. "Not too bad at all. Hopefully you'll be able to get comfortable."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Maybe, it’s still a tip around the back. Old man didn’t do much for it apparently, I’m still waiting to find a dead rat somewhere. There’s a few lockups as well I need to have a look at as well, the next rotation of goods to put out.” Going to get a drink would mean having to go past the gaggle of shop owners and have more questions thrown at him. Sidney sucks on the remains of his stick for the moisture.

“Are you in the flat above the shop as well? It’s a bit cramped above mine, but maybe it’s just the bad furniture.”

[macabre-divinity]

"That sounds like a lot to deal with," she says once Sidney has finished listing what needs to be done. "As I said, I'd be happy to help. And don't worry too much if you do find any rats; the last few died in June of last year." Birta only knows because the scratching stopped around that time and her shop was the only solace from the smell — she had to start keeping half her stock in her flat to block it out.

Birta nods in response to his question. "Yes, I am. Less furniture does help to make the place feel way less cramped. I've found that painting the walls a lighter colour can be very beneficial as well."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

That, and all of the basic skills he needed to learn out in the real world. The loneliness as well. Prison was surprisingly social when he wasn’t being chucked into solitary by his ear. Sidney didn’t mind living outside. “Lovely, they drive me mad. And I’ve been going mad, talking all about myself. Have you been at the tea shop long?”

Searching his pockets for something to chew on, he finds a very melted sweet and licks it out of the plastic packaging.

[macabre-divinity]

In all honesty, Birta enjoys listening to Sidney prattle on about himself — it's nice to hear someone talk about their experiences, makes her feel more human than she actually is.

"No, I've only been there a year," she responds with a smile. "A bit over a year actually — I moved here last spring."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Just missed each other then. I was meant to move in the start of last year, but I couldn’t make it out for a while.” Mainly since he still had to sort out moving all the way out here while staying in contact with his parole officer. He wasn’t allowed to move for a certain amount of time, in case Sidney got the itch to rob a bank.

“You should come around sometime,” he blurts out, as it falls from his mouth. Going pale or bright red would be an awful choice, already sweating bullets in the heat.

[macabre-divinity]

The sudden offer surprises her, eyebrows raising to show it. Come around could mean a number of things but the first that comes to mind is his flat, though she highly doubts that he meant that — they've only known each other for about 10 minutes.

"Sure," she responds with a smile, choosing not to ask him to elaborate on his meaning. She assumes that he means to his shop though.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Well, not today. It’s still a bit of a mess, a lot of stuff rotted away and all that. I’ve got some lovely tea sets if you wanted to have a look, display or use.” Was he this lonely? Sidney wanted to have a friend so badly he’s inviting her around and making it sound like an awful stand?

Looking over to the rather small gathering around the food table, he tries to figure out if the punch bowl is deep enough for him to drown in.

[macabre-divinity]

At the mention of tea sets, Birta's smile grows a little brighter, showing her teeth in the process. Visibly sharp, especially her canines.

"Well that sounds lovely! Just knock on the wall between our shops whenever you're ready for me to come over — I'll probably hear it; the walls aren't very thick." She's also learned in the year of being here that it is a shared wall, which is mildly disconcerting and part of the reason why she never has anyone over to her apartment.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“I didn’t realize it was thin on all sides. Sorry if you’ve been kept up. Pickles still needs to be bottle fed, she’s very fussy.” Hoping she doesn’t think he’s stupid enough to calm a baby Pickles, Sidney longingly gazes at the mostly mediocre food across. It was almost nice. If a bit bland, with salt being held back so much he was sure the cooks were supernatural.

“How aren’t you dying in this heat? I think the suns going to boil me alive, stick me to the seat.”

[macabre-divinity]

The mention of Pickles confuses Birta, simply because she knows for a fact that it likely isn't a child but she's never heard of anyone bottle feeding their pets after a certain point — is Pickles a kitten? Birta can only hope to meet her soon. For now, she simply nods. "Don't worry, I rarely ever hear a thing." That's not entirely true but oh well.

The question makes her chuckle. "I run fairly cold so this weather sort of just balances me out. Circulation issues and whatnot." She technically not lying, she just isn't saying explicitly that the 'issue' is that her blood doesn't circulate in anything under 30°C weather.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Should he have picked up a tiny kitten off the street within weeks of moving in? No, absolutely not. Pickles was just so tiny, hiding in one of the boxes out the back while trying to break into a jar of pickles. Sidney could still carry her in one hand, letting her climb around his arm whenever she found time to be around.

“Lucky you, I’m boiling alive out here. I’ve barely got the AC inside working. Is that fan really enough to stay cool with it?”

[macabre-divinity]

Birta shrugs. "The dress helps more than the fan, in all honesty — it's thinner than it looks," she responds to his question, subtly angling the fan to redirect the cooler air to her chest. She wouldn't want to be visibly sweaty.

"Oh, the AC unit usually just needs a light hit to get it working."

[macabre-divinity]

When he’d taken over the shop last year, it was in the dead of winter. Utterly freezing in the flat above, socializing with his neighbours never occurred. An occasional greeting was enough for him at the time, never too worried about making friends. Sidney was a surprise replacement, inheriting the building after the sudden death of a far off relative. The shop was a bit of squeeze, a slightly narrow doorframe he’d had to replace within the first month.

Now baking in the summer, he’s squeezed into a pair of shorts and a Hawaiian shirt while he wanders around the park. There’s very few people he even recognizes, and he’s starting to find the corner of the park with more shade a bit better.

@once-minted-made-vinted

When Birta had heard about the passing of her neighbour, she'd expected their shop to close and likely be repurposed as a coffee shop or something. However, everything kept running.

She never went to check on her neighbour — they'd never actually met and, as it'd been the dead of winter, she never really had any plans to change that. She'd just assumed that someone else inherited the shop and they'd continue ok the path of their predecessor and have no interaction between them.

Until the shopkeepers' gathering.

It's an annual picnic in the park, usually in the summer, with every shopkeeper on that street being invited. Perfect opportunity to make friends or, in actuality, be inconceivably nosy. Either way, it's much to hot out for anyone to enjoy it fully.

Birta has been sitting in the shade since she arrived, comfortably lounging under a tree. Then she spots an unfamiliar face. A gorgeous one at that.

So that's who runs the antiques shop next door.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Fuck this, it was hot enough to evaporate the ink of his poorly done tattoos. Sidney keeps fanning himself with one hand while the other is focused on keeping his popsicle close to his mouth. And those stupid shorts kept riding up every five seconds, he can’t keep walking much longer.

There were some weird questions being asked of him, poking into everything about him before they even know his name. Looking at the awful tattoos, wondering what he was up to all those years before inheriting the shop, why he’s built like that. Weaving his way out of the prying eyes and noses of the others, sitting himself in the shade near someone else. “It’s boiling isn’t it?”

[macabre-divinity]

She watches as the rather large man walks closer to her, checking her bag for an extra fan — the man looks like he's about to burst into flames, both from the heat and the awkward questions.

Luckily, Birta manages to find another fan, right at the bottom of her bag, handing it to him when he sits down. "Mhm.. Never understood why they plan these in the middle of summer."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Leaning over on the seat, he laps up the drippings of the popsicles from his fingers and sucks it off of the stick. It was a fancy one, with cream in the middle and the sweet fruit outside. Nothing like that was in prison, not for a good price. And it wasn’t smuggle-able either. Unless he fancied putting his tongue where the sun didn’t shine (an act he’d never conceived).

“Thanks Miss.” Quickly taking the fan, Sidney starts to cool himself down with it. Shifting about to unbutton the awful patterned shirt, sweat sticking to his skin. “I haven’t met you yet.”

[macabre-divinity]

"No problem." Subtly watching him for a moment as he unbuttons his shirt, Birta is sure that the rest of the street will be talking about him for at least a month after this.

She's startled when he speaks to her again. "Hm? Oh, we haven't had a chance to meet yet. I'm Birta, I run the the Rosewood Tea Shop. You?" She holds out her hand for him to shake.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Hot as hell out here. Prison had better AC, he could’ve done better with it. Sidney didn’t think he’d ever feel nostalgic about it, but the sun beating down on the park makes him think of the same days sheltered in the yard. There weren’t ever shorts like that in prison. “Is it always this hot out here?”

Tea shop? “Oh, you’re my neighbour then. I run the antiques store next to you. Sidney, nice to meet you Birta.” Stuffing the rest of the popsicle in his mouth, he switches the fan into the other hand and finally shakes hers. “Sorry, popsicle melted.”

[macabre-divinity]

"Only from June to August," she responds to his question about the weather — it's pretty much always hot in the summertime but it's better than the rain in spring, in her opinion.

Birta regrets shaking his hand when she finds that it's sticky, trying not to make the discomfort too clear on her face. "It's nice to meet you too, Sidney."

When she lets go of his hand, she hands him a wet wipe.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Fuck sake, he’d thought it was better. Ruining her hand with the sticky remains of the popsicles, Sidney looks down at the grass while reluctantly taking the cloth from her. “Sorry Miss Birta, can’t believe how fast that melted.” Feeling rather stuck to the bench seat as his shorts roll up and stick sweaty thighs to the wood, he pulls at the remains of the stick to slowly break it apart. 

“They’re really loud aren’t they? That little woman with a hat like a dead bird.” Nervous laughter rattles out of his lungs, hoping that she’s still bothering to listen. 

[macabre-divinity]

"It's fine, really," she attempts to reassure him, trying to distract herself from sticky feeling on her hand when she registers the fact that he called her "Miss Birta". It feels awfully formal, not that that's a bad thing. "Miss? Please, there's no need to be so formal — just Birta is fine."

Glancing at the woman Sidney mentions, she chuckles. "Yeah, they're always like that. You get used to it eventually. Try not to tell her too much about yourself; she tends to gossip." It's a lighthearted warning, but she speaks from experience.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Think I’ve already said too much. She’s already gotten me for not being able to figure out what she meant by an electronic payment. I don’t really know still.” Sidney smiles at her, hoping that she’ll stay near enough that no other shopkeepers will try and talk. There’s a few too many for him to handle, with the added uncomfortableness of sweat and clothes clinging to him.

God, what else is he supposed to say to her? Birta already seems a little digested by his sticky hands, and his lacklustre conversational skills can’t be helping him. “I like the…smell from your shop.”

[macabre-divinity]

"Oh dear," Birta says as she returns his smile. "Don't worry, I don't understand them either." She has been trying to figure it out though — until she does, her shop is strictly cash only.

Funnily enough, the conversation is making up for the sticky hands greatly. She already prefers him over his predecessor. "Oh, thank you... I've been meaning to check out your shop for a while but haven't had the chance yet."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

As the shade finally gives him solace, Sidney manages to feel the sweat stop and settle on his skin. “I’ve not had the time to have a look at yours, or anything down the street. It’s a bit of a mess in the shop, got left in a bit of a state after last guy died. Bruce or something.” He was so far off related, he couldn’t be sure how he was the first in line to take it.

“It’s not too bad here, is it? Think I’ll like it here, if I ever get settled in.” Luckily, the old man hadn’t died in the flats upstairs, but it was impossible to get together.

[macabre-divinity]

"If you'd like, I could help you clean up? I close early on Sundays," she offers, genuinely willing to help him out if he needs it — she recalls the previous owner never letting anyone come to fix the place up at all, despite how many problems every building on this street has, structurally.

Birta hums quietly, taking a sip from her bottle of water before looking at Sidney. "Not too bad at all. Hopefully you'll be able to get comfortable."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Maybe, it’s still a tip around the back. Old man didn’t do much for it apparently, I’m still waiting to find a dead rat somewhere. There’s a few lockups as well I need to have a look at as well, the next rotation of goods to put out.” Going to get a drink would mean having to go past the gaggle of shop owners and have more questions thrown at him. Sidney sucks on the remains of his stick for the moisture.

“Are you in the flat above the shop as well? It’s a bit cramped above mine, but maybe it’s just the bad furniture.”

[macabre-divinity]

"That sounds like a lot to deal with," she says once Sidney has finished listing what needs to be done. "As I said, I'd be happy to help. And don't worry too much if you do find any rats; the last few died in June of last year." Birta only knows because the scratching stopped around that time and her shop was the only solace from the smell — she had to start keeping half her stock in her flat to block it out.

Birta nods in response to his question. "Yes, I am. Less furniture does help to make the place feel way less cramped. I've found that painting the walls a lighter colour can be very beneficial as well."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

That, and all of the basic skills he needed to learn out in the real world. The loneliness as well. Prison was surprisingly social when he wasn’t being chucked into solitary by his ear. Sidney didn’t mind living outside. “Lovely, they drive me mad. And I’ve been going mad, talking all about myself. Have you been at the tea shop long?”

Searching his pockets for something to chew on, he finds a very melted sweet and licks it out of the plastic packaging.

[macabre-divinity]

In all honesty, Birta enjoys listening to Sidney prattle on about himself — it's nice to hear someone talk about their experiences, makes her feel more human than she actually is.

"No, I've only been there a year," she responds with a smile. "A bit over a year actually — I moved here last spring."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Just missed each other then. I was meant to move in the start of last year, but I couldn’t make it out for a while.” Mainly since he still had to sort out moving all the way out here while staying in contact with his parole officer. He wasn’t allowed to move for a certain amount of time, in case Sidney got the itch to rob a bank.

“You should come around sometime,” he blurts out, as it falls from his mouth. Going pale or bright red would be an awful choice, already sweating bullets in the heat.

[macabre-divinity]

The sudden offer surprises her, eyebrows raising to show it. Come around could mean a number of things but the first that comes to mind is his flat, though she highly doubts that he meant that — they've only known each other for about 10 minutes.

"Sure," she responds with a smile, choosing not to ask him to elaborate on his meaning. She assumes that he means to his shop though.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Well, not today. It’s still a bit of a mess, a lot of stuff rotted away and all that. I’ve got some lovely tea sets if you wanted to have a look, display or use.” Was he this lonely? Sidney wanted to have a friend so badly he’s inviting her around and making it sound like an awful stand?

Looking over to the rather small gathering around the food table, he tries to figure out if the punch bowl is deep enough for him to drown in.

[macabre-divinity]

At the mention of tea sets, Birta's smile grows a little brighter, showing her teeth in the process. Visibly sharp, especially her canines.

"Well that sounds lovely! Just knock on the wall between our shops whenever you're ready for me to come over — I'll probably hear it; the walls aren't very thick." She's also learned in the year of being here that it is a shared wall, which is mildly disconcerting and part of the reason why she never has anyone over to her apartment.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“I didn’t realize it was thin on all sides. Sorry if you’ve been kept up. Pickles still needs to be bottle fed, she’s very fussy.” Hoping she doesn’t think he’s stupid enough to calm a baby Pickles, Sidney longingly gazes at the mostly mediocre food across. It was almost nice. If a bit bland, with salt being held back so much he was sure the cooks were supernatural.

“How aren’t you dying in this heat? I think the suns going to boil me alive, stick me to the seat.”

[macabre-divinity]

The mention of Pickles confuses Birta, simply because she knows for a fact that it likely isn't a child but she's never heard of anyone bottle feeding their pets after a certain point — is Pickles a kitten? Birta can only hope to meet her soon. For now, she simply nods. "Don't worry, I rarely ever hear a thing." That's not entirely true but oh well.

The question makes her chuckle. "I run fairly cold so this weather sort of just balances me out. Circulation issues and whatnot." She technically not lying, she just isn't saying explicitly that the 'issue' is that her blood doesn't circulate in anything under 30°C weather.

[macabre-divinity]

When he’d taken over the shop last year, it was in the dead of winter. Utterly freezing in the flat above, socializing with his neighbours never occurred. An occasional greeting was enough for him at the time, never too worried about making friends. Sidney was a surprise replacement, inheriting the building after the sudden death of a far off relative. The shop was a bit of squeeze, a slightly narrow doorframe he’d had to replace within the first month.

Now baking in the summer, he’s squeezed into a pair of shorts and a Hawaiian shirt while he wanders around the park. There’s very few people he even recognizes, and he’s starting to find the corner of the park with more shade a bit better.

@once-minted-made-vinted

When Birta had heard about the passing of her neighbour, she'd expected their shop to close and likely be repurposed as a coffee shop or something. However, everything kept running.

She never went to check on her neighbour — they'd never actually met and, as it'd been the dead of winter, she never really had any plans to change that. She'd just assumed that someone else inherited the shop and they'd continue ok the path of their predecessor and have no interaction between them.

Until the shopkeepers' gathering.

It's an annual picnic in the park, usually in the summer, with every shopkeeper on that street being invited. Perfect opportunity to make friends or, in actuality, be inconceivably nosy. Either way, it's much to hot out for anyone to enjoy it fully.

Birta has been sitting in the shade since she arrived, comfortably lounging under a tree. Then she spots an unfamiliar face. A gorgeous one at that.

So that's who runs the antiques shop next door.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Fuck this, it was hot enough to evaporate the ink of his poorly done tattoos. Sidney keeps fanning himself with one hand while the other is focused on keeping his popsicle close to his mouth. And those stupid shorts kept riding up every five seconds, he can’t keep walking much longer.

There were some weird questions being asked of him, poking into everything about him before they even know his name. Looking at the awful tattoos, wondering what he was up to all those years before inheriting the shop, why he’s built like that. Weaving his way out of the prying eyes and noses of the others, sitting himself in the shade near someone else. “It’s boiling isn’t it?”

[macabre-divinity]

She watches as the rather large man walks closer to her, checking her bag for an extra fan — the man looks like he's about to burst into flames, both from the heat and the awkward questions.

Luckily, Birta manages to find another fan, right at the bottom of her bag, handing it to him when he sits down. "Mhm.. Never understood why they plan these in the middle of summer."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Leaning over on the seat, he laps up the drippings of the popsicles from his fingers and sucks it off of the stick. It was a fancy one, with cream in the middle and the sweet fruit outside. Nothing like that was in prison, not for a good price. And it wasn’t smuggle-able either. Unless he fancied putting his tongue where the sun didn’t shine (an act he’d never conceived).

“Thanks Miss.” Quickly taking the fan, Sidney starts to cool himself down with it. Shifting about to unbutton the awful patterned shirt, sweat sticking to his skin. “I haven’t met you yet.”

[macabre-divinity]

"No problem." Subtly watching him for a moment as he unbuttons his shirt, Birta is sure that the rest of the street will be talking about him for at least a month after this.

She's startled when he speaks to her again. "Hm? Oh, we haven't had a chance to meet yet. I'm Birta, I run the the Rosewood Tea Shop. You?" She holds out her hand for him to shake.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Hot as hell out here. Prison had better AC, he could’ve done better with it. Sidney didn’t think he’d ever feel nostalgic about it, but the sun beating down on the park makes him think of the same days sheltered in the yard. There weren’t ever shorts like that in prison. “Is it always this hot out here?”

Tea shop? “Oh, you’re my neighbour then. I run the antiques store next to you. Sidney, nice to meet you Birta.” Stuffing the rest of the popsicle in his mouth, he switches the fan into the other hand and finally shakes hers. “Sorry, popsicle melted.”

[macabre-divinity]

"Only from June to August," she responds to his question about the weather — it's pretty much always hot in the summertime but it's better than the rain in spring, in her opinion.

Birta regrets shaking his hand when she finds that it's sticky, trying not to make the discomfort too clear on her face. "It's nice to meet you too, Sidney."

When she lets go of his hand, she hands him a wet wipe.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Fuck sake, he’d thought it was better. Ruining her hand with the sticky remains of the popsicles, Sidney looks down at the grass while reluctantly taking the cloth from her. “Sorry Miss Birta, can’t believe how fast that melted.” Feeling rather stuck to the bench seat as his shorts roll up and stick sweaty thighs to the wood, he pulls at the remains of the stick to slowly break it apart. 

“They’re really loud aren’t they? That little woman with a hat like a dead bird.” Nervous laughter rattles out of his lungs, hoping that she’s still bothering to listen. 

[macabre-divinity]

"It's fine, really," she attempts to reassure him, trying to distract herself from sticky feeling on her hand when she registers the fact that he called her "Miss Birta". It feels awfully formal, not that that's a bad thing. "Miss? Please, there's no need to be so formal — just Birta is fine."

Glancing at the woman Sidney mentions, she chuckles. "Yeah, they're always like that. You get used to it eventually. Try not to tell her too much about yourself; she tends to gossip." It's a lighthearted warning, but she speaks from experience.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Think I’ve already said too much. She’s already gotten me for not being able to figure out what she meant by an electronic payment. I don’t really know still.” Sidney smiles at her, hoping that she’ll stay near enough that no other shopkeepers will try and talk. There’s a few too many for him to handle, with the added uncomfortableness of sweat and clothes clinging to him.

God, what else is he supposed to say to her? Birta already seems a little digested by his sticky hands, and his lacklustre conversational skills can’t be helping him. “I like the…smell from your shop.”

[macabre-divinity]

"Oh dear," Birta says as she returns his smile. "Don't worry, I don't understand them either." She has been trying to figure it out though — until she does, her shop is strictly cash only.

Funnily enough, the conversation is making up for the sticky hands greatly. She already prefers him over his predecessor. "Oh, thank you... I've been meaning to check out your shop for a while but haven't had the chance yet."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

As the shade finally gives him solace, Sidney manages to feel the sweat stop and settle on his skin. “I’ve not had the time to have a look at yours, or anything down the street. It’s a bit of a mess in the shop, got left in a bit of a state after last guy died. Bruce or something.” He was so far off related, he couldn’t be sure how he was the first in line to take it.

“It’s not too bad here, is it? Think I’ll like it here, if I ever get settled in.” Luckily, the old man hadn’t died in the flats upstairs, but it was impossible to get together.

[macabre-divinity]

"If you'd like, I could help you clean up? I close early on Sundays," she offers, genuinely willing to help him out if he needs it — she recalls the previous owner never letting anyone come to fix the place up at all, despite how many problems every building on this street has, structurally.

Birta hums quietly, taking a sip from her bottle of water before looking at Sidney. "Not too bad at all. Hopefully you'll be able to get comfortable."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Maybe, it’s still a tip around the back. Old man didn’t do much for it apparently, I’m still waiting to find a dead rat somewhere. There’s a few lockups as well I need to have a look at as well, the next rotation of goods to put out.” Going to get a drink would mean having to go past the gaggle of shop owners and have more questions thrown at him. Sidney sucks on the remains of his stick for the moisture.

“Are you in the flat above the shop as well? It’s a bit cramped above mine, but maybe it’s just the bad furniture.”

[macabre-divinity]

"That sounds like a lot to deal with," she says once Sidney has finished listing what needs to be done. "As I said, I'd be happy to help. And don't worry too much if you do find any rats; the last few died in June of last year." Birta only knows because the scratching stopped around that time and her shop was the only solace from the smell — she had to start keeping half her stock in her flat to block it out.

Birta nods in response to his question. "Yes, I am. Less furniture does help to make the place feel way less cramped. I've found that painting the walls a lighter colour can be very beneficial as well."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

That, and all of the basic skills he needed to learn out in the real world. The loneliness as well. Prison was surprisingly social when he wasn’t being chucked into solitary by his ear. Sidney didn’t mind living outside. “Lovely, they drive me mad. And I’ve been going mad, talking all about myself. Have you been at the tea shop long?”

Searching his pockets for something to chew on, he finds a very melted sweet and licks it out of the plastic packaging.

[macabre-divinity]

In all honesty, Birta enjoys listening to Sidney prattle on about himself — it's nice to hear someone talk about their experiences, makes her feel more human than she actually is.

"No, I've only been there a year," she responds with a smile. "A bit over a year actually — I moved here last spring."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Just missed each other then. I was meant to move in the start of last year, but I couldn’t make it out for a while.” Mainly since he still had to sort out moving all the way out here while staying in contact with his parole officer. He wasn’t allowed to move for a certain amount of time, in case Sidney got the itch to rob a bank.

“You should come around sometime,” he blurts out, as it falls from his mouth. Going pale or bright red would be an awful choice, already sweating bullets in the heat.

[macabre-divinity]

The sudden offer surprises her, eyebrows raising to show it. Come around could mean a number of things but the first that comes to mind is his flat, though she highly doubts that he meant that — they've only known each other for about 10 minutes.

"Sure," she responds with a smile, choosing not to ask him to elaborate on his meaning. She assumes that he means to his shop though.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Well, not today. It’s still a bit of a mess, a lot of stuff rotted away and all that. I’ve got some lovely tea sets if you wanted to have a look, display or use.” Was he this lonely? Sidney wanted to have a friend so badly he’s inviting her around and making it sound like an awful stand?

Looking over to the rather small gathering around the food table, he tries to figure out if the punch bowl is deep enough for him to drown in.

[macabre-divinity]

At the mention of tea sets, Birta's smile grows a little brighter, showing her teeth in the process. Visibly sharp, especially her canines.

"Well that sounds lovely! Just knock on the wall between our shops whenever you're ready for me to come over — I'll probably hear it; the walls aren't very thick." She's also learned in the year of being here that it is a shared wall, which is mildly disconcerting and part of the reason why she never has anyone over to her apartment.

[macabre-divinity]

When he’d taken over the shop last year, it was in the dead of winter. Utterly freezing in the flat above, socializing with his neighbours never occurred. An occasional greeting was enough for him at the time, never too worried about making friends. Sidney was a surprise replacement, inheriting the building after the sudden death of a far off relative. The shop was a bit of squeeze, a slightly narrow doorframe he’d had to replace within the first month.

Now baking in the summer, he’s squeezed into a pair of shorts and a Hawaiian shirt while he wanders around the park. There’s very few people he even recognizes, and he’s starting to find the corner of the park with more shade a bit better.

@once-minted-made-vinted

When Birta had heard about the passing of her neighbour, she'd expected their shop to close and likely be repurposed as a coffee shop or something. However, everything kept running.

She never went to check on her neighbour — they'd never actually met and, as it'd been the dead of winter, she never really had any plans to change that. She'd just assumed that someone else inherited the shop and they'd continue ok the path of their predecessor and have no interaction between them.

Until the shopkeepers' gathering.

It's an annual picnic in the park, usually in the summer, with every shopkeeper on that street being invited. Perfect opportunity to make friends or, in actuality, be inconceivably nosy. Either way, it's much to hot out for anyone to enjoy it fully.

Birta has been sitting in the shade since she arrived, comfortably lounging under a tree. Then she spots an unfamiliar face. A gorgeous one at that.

So that's who runs the antiques shop next door.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Fuck this, it was hot enough to evaporate the ink of his poorly done tattoos. Sidney keeps fanning himself with one hand while the other is focused on keeping his popsicle close to his mouth. And those stupid shorts kept riding up every five seconds, he can’t keep walking much longer.

There were some weird questions being asked of him, poking into everything about him before they even know his name. Looking at the awful tattoos, wondering what he was up to all those years before inheriting the shop, why he’s built like that. Weaving his way out of the prying eyes and noses of the others, sitting himself in the shade near someone else. “It’s boiling isn’t it?”

[macabre-divinity]

She watches as the rather large man walks closer to her, checking her bag for an extra fan — the man looks like he's about to burst into flames, both from the heat and the awkward questions.

Luckily, Birta manages to find another fan, right at the bottom of her bag, handing it to him when he sits down. "Mhm.. Never understood why they plan these in the middle of summer."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Leaning over on the seat, he laps up the drippings of the popsicles from his fingers and sucks it off of the stick. It was a fancy one, with cream in the middle and the sweet fruit outside. Nothing like that was in prison, not for a good price. And it wasn’t smuggle-able either. Unless he fancied putting his tongue where the sun didn’t shine (an act he’d never conceived).

“Thanks Miss.” Quickly taking the fan, Sidney starts to cool himself down with it. Shifting about to unbutton the awful patterned shirt, sweat sticking to his skin. “I haven’t met you yet.”

[macabre-divinity]

"No problem." Subtly watching him for a moment as he unbuttons his shirt, Birta is sure that the rest of the street will be talking about him for at least a month after this.

She's startled when he speaks to her again. "Hm? Oh, we haven't had a chance to meet yet. I'm Birta, I run the the Rosewood Tea Shop. You?" She holds out her hand for him to shake.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Hot as hell out here. Prison had better AC, he could’ve done better with it. Sidney didn’t think he’d ever feel nostalgic about it, but the sun beating down on the park makes him think of the same days sheltered in the yard. There weren’t ever shorts like that in prison. “Is it always this hot out here?”

Tea shop? “Oh, you’re my neighbour then. I run the antiques store next to you. Sidney, nice to meet you Birta.” Stuffing the rest of the popsicle in his mouth, he switches the fan into the other hand and finally shakes hers. “Sorry, popsicle melted.”

[macabre-divinity]

"Only from June to August," she responds to his question about the weather — it's pretty much always hot in the summertime but it's better than the rain in spring, in her opinion.

Birta regrets shaking his hand when she finds that it's sticky, trying not to make the discomfort too clear on her face. "It's nice to meet you too, Sidney."

When she lets go of his hand, she hands him a wet wipe.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Fuck sake, he’d thought it was better. Ruining her hand with the sticky remains of the popsicles, Sidney looks down at the grass while reluctantly taking the cloth from her. “Sorry Miss Birta, can’t believe how fast that melted.” Feeling rather stuck to the bench seat as his shorts roll up and stick sweaty thighs to the wood, he pulls at the remains of the stick to slowly break it apart. 

“They’re really loud aren’t they? That little woman with a hat like a dead bird.” Nervous laughter rattles out of his lungs, hoping that she’s still bothering to listen. 

[macabre-divinity]

"It's fine, really," she attempts to reassure him, trying to distract herself from sticky feeling on her hand when she registers the fact that he called her "Miss Birta". It feels awfully formal, not that that's a bad thing. "Miss? Please, there's no need to be so formal — just Birta is fine."

Glancing at the woman Sidney mentions, she chuckles. "Yeah, they're always like that. You get used to it eventually. Try not to tell her too much about yourself; she tends to gossip." It's a lighthearted warning, but she speaks from experience.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Think I’ve already said too much. She’s already gotten me for not being able to figure out what she meant by an electronic payment. I don’t really know still.” Sidney smiles at her, hoping that she’ll stay near enough that no other shopkeepers will try and talk. There’s a few too many for him to handle, with the added uncomfortableness of sweat and clothes clinging to him.

God, what else is he supposed to say to her? Birta already seems a little digested by his sticky hands, and his lacklustre conversational skills can’t be helping him. “I like the…smell from your shop.”

[macabre-divinity]

"Oh dear," Birta says as she returns his smile. "Don't worry, I don't understand them either." She has been trying to figure it out though — until she does, her shop is strictly cash only.

Funnily enough, the conversation is making up for the sticky hands greatly. She already prefers him over his predecessor. "Oh, thank you... I've been meaning to check out your shop for a while but haven't had the chance yet."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

As the shade finally gives him solace, Sidney manages to feel the sweat stop and settle on his skin. “I’ve not had the time to have a look at yours, or anything down the street. It’s a bit of a mess in the shop, got left in a bit of a state after last guy died. Bruce or something.” He was so far off related, he couldn’t be sure how he was the first in line to take it.

“It’s not too bad here, is it? Think I’ll like it here, if I ever get settled in.” Luckily, the old man hadn’t died in the flats upstairs, but it was impossible to get together.

[macabre-divinity]

"If you'd like, I could help you clean up? I close early on Sundays," she offers, genuinely willing to help him out if he needs it — she recalls the previous owner never letting anyone come to fix the place up at all, despite how many problems every building on this street has, structurally.

Birta hums quietly, taking a sip from her bottle of water before looking at Sidney. "Not too bad at all. Hopefully you'll be able to get comfortable."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Maybe, it’s still a tip around the back. Old man didn’t do much for it apparently, I’m still waiting to find a dead rat somewhere. There’s a few lockups as well I need to have a look at as well, the next rotation of goods to put out.” Going to get a drink would mean having to go past the gaggle of shop owners and have more questions thrown at him. Sidney sucks on the remains of his stick for the moisture.

“Are you in the flat above the shop as well? It’s a bit cramped above mine, but maybe it’s just the bad furniture.”

[macabre-divinity]

"That sounds like a lot to deal with," she says once Sidney has finished listing what needs to be done. "As I said, I'd be happy to help. And don't worry too much if you do find any rats; the last few died in June of last year." Birta only knows because the scratching stopped around that time and her shop was the only solace from the smell — she had to start keeping half her stock in her flat to block it out.

Birta nods in response to his question. "Yes, I am. Less furniture does help to make the place feel way less cramped. I've found that painting the walls a lighter colour can be very beneficial as well."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

That, and all of the basic skills he needed to learn out in the real world. The loneliness as well. Prison was surprisingly social when he wasn’t being chucked into solitary by his ear. Sidney didn’t mind living outside. “Lovely, they drive me mad. And I’ve been going mad, talking all about myself. Have you been at the tea shop long?”

Searching his pockets for something to chew on, he finds a very melted sweet and licks it out of the plastic packaging.

[macabre-divinity]

In all honesty, Birta enjoys listening to Sidney prattle on about himself — it's nice to hear someone talk about their experiences, makes her feel more human than she actually is.

"No, I've only been there a year," she responds with a smile. "A bit over a year actually — I moved here last spring."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Just missed each other then. I was meant to move in the start of last year, but I couldn’t make it out for a while.” Mainly since he still had to sort out moving all the way out here while staying in contact with his parole officer. He wasn’t allowed to move for a certain amount of time, in case Sidney got the itch to rob a bank.

“You should come around sometime,” he blurts out, as it falls from his mouth. Going pale or bright red would be an awful choice, already sweating bullets in the heat.

[macabre-divinity]

The sudden offer surprises her, eyebrows raising to show it. Come around could mean a number of things but the first that comes to mind is his flat, though she highly doubts that he meant that — they've only known each other for about 10 minutes.

"Sure," she responds with a smile, choosing not to ask him to elaborate on his meaning. She assumes that he means to his shop though.

[macabre-divinity]

When he’d taken over the shop last year, it was in the dead of winter. Utterly freezing in the flat above, socializing with his neighbours never occurred. An occasional greeting was enough for him at the time, never too worried about making friends. Sidney was a surprise replacement, inheriting the building after the sudden death of a far off relative. The shop was a bit of squeeze, a slightly narrow doorframe he’d had to replace within the first month.

Now baking in the summer, he’s squeezed into a pair of shorts and a Hawaiian shirt while he wanders around the park. There’s very few people he even recognizes, and he’s starting to find the corner of the park with more shade a bit better.

@once-minted-made-vinted

When Birta had heard about the passing of her neighbour, she'd expected their shop to close and likely be repurposed as a coffee shop or something. However, everything kept running.

She never went to check on her neighbour — they'd never actually met and, as it'd been the dead of winter, she never really had any plans to change that. She'd just assumed that someone else inherited the shop and they'd continue ok the path of their predecessor and have no interaction between them.

Until the shopkeepers' gathering.

It's an annual picnic in the park, usually in the summer, with every shopkeeper on that street being invited. Perfect opportunity to make friends or, in actuality, be inconceivably nosy. Either way, it's much to hot out for anyone to enjoy it fully.

Birta has been sitting in the shade since she arrived, comfortably lounging under a tree. Then she spots an unfamiliar face. A gorgeous one at that.

So that's who runs the antiques shop next door.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Fuck this, it was hot enough to evaporate the ink of his poorly done tattoos. Sidney keeps fanning himself with one hand while the other is focused on keeping his popsicle close to his mouth. And those stupid shorts kept riding up every five seconds, he can’t keep walking much longer.

There were some weird questions being asked of him, poking into everything about him before they even know his name. Looking at the awful tattoos, wondering what he was up to all those years before inheriting the shop, why he’s built like that. Weaving his way out of the prying eyes and noses of the others, sitting himself in the shade near someone else. “It’s boiling isn’t it?”

[macabre-divinity]

She watches as the rather large man walks closer to her, checking her bag for an extra fan — the man looks like he's about to burst into flames, both from the heat and the awkward questions.

Luckily, Birta manages to find another fan, right at the bottom of her bag, handing it to him when he sits down. "Mhm.. Never understood why they plan these in the middle of summer."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Leaning over on the seat, he laps up the drippings of the popsicles from his fingers and sucks it off of the stick. It was a fancy one, with cream in the middle and the sweet fruit outside. Nothing like that was in prison, not for a good price. And it wasn’t smuggle-able either. Unless he fancied putting his tongue where the sun didn’t shine (an act he’d never conceived).

“Thanks Miss.” Quickly taking the fan, Sidney starts to cool himself down with it. Shifting about to unbutton the awful patterned shirt, sweat sticking to his skin. “I haven’t met you yet.”

[macabre-divinity]

"No problem." Subtly watching him for a moment as he unbuttons his shirt, Birta is sure that the rest of the street will be talking about him for at least a month after this.

She's startled when he speaks to her again. "Hm? Oh, we haven't had a chance to meet yet. I'm Birta, I run the the Rosewood Tea Shop. You?" She holds out her hand for him to shake.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Hot as hell out here. Prison had better AC, he could’ve done better with it. Sidney didn’t think he’d ever feel nostalgic about it, but the sun beating down on the park makes him think of the same days sheltered in the yard. There weren’t ever shorts like that in prison. “Is it always this hot out here?”

Tea shop? “Oh, you’re my neighbour then. I run the antiques store next to you. Sidney, nice to meet you Birta.” Stuffing the rest of the popsicle in his mouth, he switches the fan into the other hand and finally shakes hers. “Sorry, popsicle melted.”

[macabre-divinity]

"Only from June to August," she responds to his question about the weather — it's pretty much always hot in the summertime but it's better than the rain in spring, in her opinion.

Birta regrets shaking his hand when she finds that it's sticky, trying not to make the discomfort too clear on her face. "It's nice to meet you too, Sidney."

When she lets go of his hand, she hands him a wet wipe.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

Fuck sake, he’d thought it was better. Ruining her hand with the sticky remains of the popsicles, Sidney looks down at the grass while reluctantly taking the cloth from her. “Sorry Miss Birta, can’t believe how fast that melted.” Feeling rather stuck to the bench seat as his shorts roll up and stick sweaty thighs to the wood, he pulls at the remains of the stick to slowly break it apart. 

“They’re really loud aren’t they? That little woman with a hat like a dead bird.” Nervous laughter rattles out of his lungs, hoping that she’s still bothering to listen. 

[macabre-divinity]

"It's fine, really," she attempts to reassure him, trying to distract herself from sticky feeling on her hand when she registers the fact that he called her "Miss Birta". It feels awfully formal, not that that's a bad thing. "Miss? Please, there's no need to be so formal — just Birta is fine."

Glancing at the woman Sidney mentions, she chuckles. "Yeah, they're always like that. You get used to it eventually. Try not to tell her too much about yourself; she tends to gossip." It's a lighthearted warning, but she speaks from experience.

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Think I’ve already said too much. She’s already gotten me for not being able to figure out what she meant by an electronic payment. I don’t really know still.” Sidney smiles at her, hoping that she’ll stay near enough that no other shopkeepers will try and talk. There’s a few too many for him to handle, with the added uncomfortableness of sweat and clothes clinging to him.

God, what else is he supposed to say to her? Birta already seems a little digested by his sticky hands, and his lacklustre conversational skills can’t be helping him. “I like the…smell from your shop.”

[macabre-divinity]

"Oh dear," Birta says as she returns his smile. "Don't worry, I don't understand them either." She has been trying to figure it out though — until she does, her shop is strictly cash only.

Funnily enough, the conversation is making up for the sticky hands greatly. She already prefers him over his predecessor. "Oh, thank you... I've been meaning to check out your shop for a while but haven't had the chance yet."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

As the shade finally gives him solace, Sidney manages to feel the sweat stop and settle on his skin. “I’ve not had the time to have a look at yours, or anything down the street. It’s a bit of a mess in the shop, got left in a bit of a state after last guy died. Bruce or something.” He was so far off related, he couldn’t be sure how he was the first in line to take it.

“It’s not too bad here, is it? Think I’ll like it here, if I ever get settled in.” Luckily, the old man hadn’t died in the flats upstairs, but it was impossible to get together.

[macabre-divinity]

"If you'd like, I could help you clean up? I close early on Sundays," she offers, genuinely willing to help him out if he needs it — she recalls the previous owner never letting anyone come to fix the place up at all, despite how many problems every building on this street has, structurally.

Birta hums quietly, taking a sip from her bottle of water before looking at Sidney. "Not too bad at all. Hopefully you'll be able to get comfortable."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

“Maybe, it’s still a tip around the back. Old man didn’t do much for it apparently, I’m still waiting to find a dead rat somewhere. There’s a few lockups as well I need to have a look at as well, the next rotation of goods to put out.” Going to get a drink would mean having to go past the gaggle of shop owners and have more questions thrown at him. Sidney sucks on the remains of his stick for the moisture.

“Are you in the flat above the shop as well? It’s a bit cramped above mine, but maybe it’s just the bad furniture.”

[macabre-divinity]

"That sounds like a lot to deal with," she says once Sidney has finished listing what needs to be done. "As I said, I'd be happy to help. And don't worry too much if you do find any rats; the last few died in June of last year." Birta only knows because the scratching stopped around that time and her shop was the only solace from the smell — she had to start keeping half her stock in her flat to block it out.

Birta nods in response to his question. "Yes, I am. Less furniture does help to make the place feel way less cramped. I've found that painting the walls a lighter colour can be very beneficial as well."

[once-minted-made-vinted]

That, and all of the basic skills he needed to learn out in the real world. The loneliness as well. Prison was surprisingly social when he wasn’t being chucked into solitary by his ear. Sidney didn’t mind living outside. “Lovely, they drive me mad. And I’ve been going mad, talking all about myself. Have you been at the tea shop long?”

Searching his pockets for something to chew on, he finds a very melted sweet and licks it out of the plastic packaging.

[macabre-divinity]

In all honesty, Birta enjoys listening to Sidney prattle on about himself — it's nice to hear someone talk about their experiences, makes her feel more human than she actually is.

"No, I've only been there a year," she responds with a smile. "A bit over a year actually — I moved here last spring."