She knew that by using her father's name to get a little bit of respect would call the bees on her. The words would travel to his ears and he would ask her about it; what was he doing there? Who was she with? Why did she have her clothes completely torn apart? It was normal to ask that; she would have done the same. Everything would call out to just one thing. A man, clothes torn apart and swollen lips… All evidence would point at one thing.
Nevertheless, there was one thing she would be thinking at the moment; the dresses were too wonderful to not let the eyes feast on them. She walked around the shop, touching every fabric, feeling every softness of the garments, some were hang by the ceiling with a metal cord so the drew would be seen from both sides and some were on dolls. There were some humanoid objects but they were taller than her. Her hand measured the height comparing it to her body but she was small.
