They both have such pinched faces, such bitter looks. The woman in the bakery stares at the dressmaker, a dressmaker who wears ugly black and has never bloomed. The woman in the bakery wears dirty grey and has never been able to flower. They are two of the same kind of woman, and they see it in the way that neither of them smile. The dressmaker gives her coins like a hasty, awkward gift, and the woman in the bakery hands over the loaf of bread like an offering.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-23 09:35 pm (UTC)Yay!
They both have such pinched faces, such bitter looks. The woman in the bakery stares at the dressmaker, a dressmaker who wears ugly black and has never bloomed. The woman in the bakery wears dirty grey and has never been able to flower. They are two of the same kind of woman, and they see it in the way that neither of them smile. The dressmaker gives her coins like a hasty, awkward gift, and the woman in the bakery hands over the loaf of bread like an offering.