I couldn’t tell why, but I followed the urge with its mental directions like an internal GPS down streets I’d forgotten about long ago. My feet carried me to an indoor gallery with an arched glass roof over a common area packed with people resting at tables. An assortment of shops, including a crystal and rock boutique store, lined either side. I recalled from my childhood how I loved to go into that sort of shop and look at the shiny, pretty things.
Back when I was a shiny, pretty thing myself.
A bell over the door chimed when I walked in. A woman seated behind a register looked up. Her straight gray hair stood up in several directions like she’d been running her hand through it or grabbing it in agitation. Although not pretty, she had a striking face with a strong nose and the greenest
