I Like Your Drawings…
I brushed the red curls out of my face for the umpteenth time and pushed open the door, some paint sticking to my hands in blue flakes as they departed the wooden surface. A faint bell signalled my entrance and I was immediately engulfed in the aroma of burning incense; sandalwood and vanilla. I nervously clutched at the sheet of paper I held that read ‘Help needed. Inquire within for details’ and took a deep breath to steady myself. I made my way across the threshold of the shop looking around as I did. The walls and most of the floor were stacked high with books and everything was covered in layer upon layer of dust. The light from the windows was faint, casting the contents of the shop in constant shadow and each step disturbed piles of dust sending it spinning into the air.
I was browsing the shelves, waiting, when someone tutted at me from behind. I whirled around and met the steel-blue eyes of Liesel Finnegan; the owner of the shop. She gave me a very hard, disapproving stare and beckoned me over to an ornately carved writing desk in the back corner with chairs strewn hazardly around it. The wrinkles around her mouth were taut and her lips were set in a thin line as she threw her long, grey plait over her shoulder and moved yet another stack of books from the chair so I could sit down. As I spoke about how I required the job and would work whenever she needed me to, she paced back and forth, unsettling me, and muttered under her breath. I took a deep breath to regain my thoughts but Liesel held up her hand. “I appreciate you coming in today, but I am afraid that I will not be hiring you to work here.” She shuffled over to the door, holding it open for me, but I remained sitting. My fingers were clenched so tightly that the ring on my left hand dug into my palm. This failed attempt at trying to secure a job brought the score to eleven. “What is it, specifically, that you don’t like?” I questioned with more force than intended. Her...