It hadn’t rained for months, but the atmosphere of the shop was damp. Damp and still. Nothing moved when I came in. Not the gaunt figure behind the cash desk. Not the angular figures bent over the adjacent table.

I thought of Howard Carter poking his head into the tomb of Tutankhamun. Like Carter, I saw wonderful things, but no signs of life.

The figure behind the desk shifted slightly and spoke.


“I, well, I’m looking for, um, I was wondering…”


“I want to learn to knit.”