The Shop

>Hey, I look great in plaid. Like a real scrawny lumberjack.

Sam:
"Right, right, because we all know how cool lumberjacks are don't we?"

>You did burn it, but I have many more.

>You know mere fire is no match for FASHION.

Sam shakes her head.

Sam:
"Somehow I'm not surprised, and that terrifies me."

Says you, in that ratty hoodie and sweatpants.

She stands up and punches you on the arm.


Sam:
"Come on you dweeb, there are a few things I want to see before the show."

>"Can I sell my soul to you in exchange for some bed times? Oh, wait. I can't- I already pawned that off."

>WAKE UP.

Sam continues to talk, but you don't hear her.
All you hear is static. Your head is splitting.
You close your eyes, trying to shut out the pain along with the rest of the world.

.......

And then it stops.



Sam:
"Hey, you ok?"

Before you is a worried Sam.
Behind her the festival ground hosting this year's Jazz Fest.

Sam:
"I'm just going to check that shop out real quick. Do you want to wait out here?"