(Copyright – Dawn M. Miller)
It is two weeks before Christmas.
I stand back and admire my shop. It’s beautiful. My display cases are custom designed; built to spec by a craftsman in Japan. I’ve filled them with baubles and beads, expensive and reasonable, chosen to fit the tastes and budgets of all. I’ve merchandised, publicized, advertised.
Unfortunately, I did it all on credit, and today, opening day, there’s a picket line around the building. Only the bravest of my fellow tradesmen have broken through and they are in the Thunder Grill, drinking coffee, Bloodies or straight shots, depending on the terms of their financing.
(Written for Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. August 30, 2013.)