Business Transaction

A moist breeze blows through the cracks in Bartholomew’s door as he wipes the cobwebs out of the window corners.  He elevates his eyes upwards through the smoked glass; looks like rain again.  Bad news for any of the street vendors.  Better news for him.

The man returns to the well-worn floor planks behind the counter, rubbing his ginger mutton chops and surveying his establishment.  Clothes is what he sees; a tailor by trade he is, and if he does say so himself, the best in the tri-city area.  The ego has not gone without substantial proof of his prowess, and over the many seasons he’s racked up quite an impressive list of wealthy clients looking for custom-made garments.

{This’ll be going somewhere, if I can remember to make it go there.}


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