It was a slow afternoon in the health food store. Bluebell on till three was keeping up a relentlessly cheerful monologue as she rung up the purchases of a woman with a long, dark braid, and a very rude t-shirt.
When a darkly handsome man ambled in from the street looking vaguely uncomfortable, he immediately became the cynosure of all eyes.
Cinnamon rushed to his side.
“Can I help you,” she chimed in a voice like silver bells.
He smiled down at the wispy figure and she shivered so her bangles jangled.
“I’ve just come to collect my wife.”