At first glance, one might be instinctively drawn to it, stopping to admire and indulge in it. It felt as if an intriguing set of events had taken place, compelling all activity to halt. Then, after a pause, a peculiar blend of excitement and shyness interrupts the monotonous melody of the mill with the question, "Excuse me...is anyone here?" An identifiable young boy's voice seemed to startle, and a brittle voice, seemingly afraid of people, responded, "Sorry, please hold on, I'll be right there." The grits of grain reluctantly fall to the rhythm of a rhythmic "plop" sound. The long skirt once lifted for convenience was lowered, and a pair of legs were hidden beneath the uncooperatively dirty dress.
"Coming, coming."
The voice, filled with apologies, rushed itself to calm the visitor's mind. Lilac Virtanen, rubbing her nervous hands on her dress, carefully opened the door to the mill.
"Good day, can I assist you with anything?"
"Uh...That... I... "
