You walk alone through carpenter street.
You're on a mission to find a birthday gift for Bliss, a friend of yours.
She likes shiny things, special things and you're gliding past storefront after storefront looking for that special something.
Just as you're looking at the shop with the taxidermied ocelot, cursed necklace and jar of assorted glass eyeballs, the heavens crack open like an egg and you jump into the store to avoid getting soaked.
A bell above you rings out of tune and your feet are met with a carpet decorated with intricate patterns that swirl and twist. It smells musty in here, which is to be expected with all this old junk. The people who run this shop didn’t even make an effort to organise as the place is just row after row of shelves and cabinets stuffed to the brink with junk.
You finally get the pun on the storefront as you notice the cashier, who is a wolf-kin and is pretending to be reading a book, but even from the other side of the store, you can see the glances she tries to give you.