She leaned back with her arm slung across the cold wood of a clothes rack. It was sparsely draped with the long-sleeved shirts and jackets that had survived the winter sales and now hung around like grizzled veterans of the holiday rush. She fondled a ball of double-thick socks, squishing the brown wool as though she were appraising questionable market-stall produce. Most of the unsold shirts were stiff and weathered as old laundry strung out to dry on the line. Never one to afford many surprises when it came to her tastes, it therefore wasn't shocking that the woodworker preferred this type of clothing over the gaudy fashions that adorned the shop's frontlines. Simple wear was her favorite make, the kind she could sling on and off her large, lively frame at the drop of a hat. Any fussy accessories would inevitably get tangled up in the mess of her life.
Topaz lifted herself off the beanbag and came to examine the door poking through her window. Able fumbled to hold her smile in place as she was halfway accused of stealing it clean off the seamstress's front porch, "First, I feel I should make sure that the door you've used to decorate my window isn't my door."
She gasped, shifting her weight full upright, her brown eyes flashing wide open at the thought. "What! You think I'd do that? And risk jeopardizing our beautiful relationship? Never!"
With a contemplative hum, she strolled up to the front window, peeling through the curtain of display clothes to reveal a tiny wedge of sunlight and a straight-shot view of the road outside. "I think your door's still out in the street, yep, that the one?" She indicated a finger toward the slab of wood toppled over in the dirt. "There, quite an oaken beauty, she is, got a wee little peephole like a fairy's spyglass." Able's hand rose to her face, her spindly thumb and forefinger looping to form a ring the size of a sterling coin. The tapering wings of the luna moth emblazoned on the back of her hand made it look like she was peering out through the eyehole of an elaborate mask.
But by this point, Topaz was hunched over her workspace and furiously scratching something on sheet of...