I paid for your silence

[winifred-anwell.livejournal.com]

Day 101
Wednesday Morning
The Organ Grinder

The road isn't empty even, fairly early in the day, and I try not to look at anyone too closely as I trot down the street, examining Dorian's map carefully.  I wouldn't like to get lost, but I do try to trip along at a good clip.  I'd like to impress Dorian by getting his errands done on time, so it's with a sense of purpose that I reach the large road and squint up at the signs.

The Organ Grinder?  That's... well, that's awful.  Macabre, to say the least.  But it's not my shop, and I'd have to say that I don't know what I would name a butcher's shop, anyway.  I still don't know how wise it is to go reminding your clientele of where their food comes from.  I try not to consider it, myself, but I remember how I cried when Papa explained to me that the lambs that the shepherd boys tended would be eaten someday!  Still, I suppose this is the way it's done.  I try not to be intimidated as I step inside, feeling the air cooler on my neck and looking around with wide eyes.  "Hello?" I try, timidly.  I'd like to hurry, but I have suddenly remembered that I don't know anyone here but Dorian.

[Closed]

Comments

[winifred-anwell.livejournal.com]

"Oh, no. No, thank you," I say, hoping it sounds polite instead of thoroughly worried. I mean, he seems nice enough, but then again, he thinks there's a monster in the water tower and he tells this to strangers with perfect sincerity. The meat turns out to be much heavier than I expected, but I'm sure I can manage it. After all, that's part of running the errands, right?

I accept the change and pocket it, shifting my grip to make sure I can manage everything. It occurs to me that I should perhaps have done the other errands before I had a heavy packet of meat to lug around, but I was just following the order of Mr. Dorian's instructions. I smile--no reason not to be polite; even if he is crazy, he's still been polite--and say, "Yes, thank you, that will be all today." At last, I think, as I haul the meat off toward the door and my arms begin to ache from the unaccustomed effort, I have seized control of the situation. So there.