Her hands sliding through the orderly organized goods she stocked a few days back. Definitely her favorite thing to do inside her store, up and down, up and down placing things in order, a soothingly rote exercise in body movement and yet. her facial expression is always coldly blank. No smiles, no glances around, no nods or winces or even any sounds. Her mind is on endless journey somewhere no one will ever see, at least not her version of that somewhere. The busiest times are when she’s least present, the morning get-up-and-goery and the hustling lunchtime crowds, but eventually: the night. Those neon lights take on a newly contrasted glow to appease her loneliness and the stream of people becomes a tiny trickle, edging off into a full stop. This is when she’s the most alive, when the iron gate latches shut and she’s stuck alone inside, only she isn’t stuck. She can go anywhere she wants through the unlocked gates in her mind, she’s a sweet little psychopath but you’d never suspect it while buying a pack of gum. You’d only know it if you paid her keeper enough money to unlock the gate and let you in with her.