I rarely saw anyone inside andI had no idea who Naomi actually was, if there really was a woman calledNaomi working there. No one else knew about my f...scination for the shop,walking past was just a nice moment for me each day, something to lookforward to while I was making my way through the school day.My story starts on one Friday afternoon in May. After a week of rain, thesun had finally come out, and I was in no real rush to get home. I hadsaid goodbye to my friends, wished them a good. They piled what was left over inside the carriage. Then they nodded to me and to the young woman, who was wearing a short jacket of rough wool decorated with curlicues of stitching. Her carefully dressed hair had come loose and now hung over one shoulder and halfway down her back."You did a good job," I said to them. "You can each take an extra horse." I had found a pretty hefty purse on the man who had torn up our pass and was feeling generous. The man smiled at me and the boy waved as they. More

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