fabric store charm

The eyes of the customers at the fabric shop were of all degrees of enthusiasm and excitement with a full spectrum of projects running through their multi chambered complex brains: the regular middle aged tailor was a regular at that shop: today she was there for a yard of beige organza and lining material to finish that dress for a local customer; it was obvious by the lack of any enthusiasm that she had made already made several copies of that same dress; in the aisle next to her was the very gay artist: he was here today to pick happy fabric for his new collection of screaming art furniture; the old lady was there for just half a meter of cotton material to make her probably last nightgown that will definitely outlive her; the stay home mom trying was there to get the necessary material to mimic a Pinterest style birthday party for her kid, and trying to pull off a crafty celebration; then I saw HER: a bit older, as enchanted as a kid at a toy store. She was slightly limping between aisles. So happy to be there, checking the time to make sure her time was long in Eldorado Island. She was running from project to another in her colorful head.. mixing turquoise happiness with brown serenity; always so excited. A young man spotted her; he was helping the customers as part of his summer internship at the store. He serenaded behind her, intending to help her while fishing for a story behind this radiant drive, to add enthusiasm to his long days. He let his imagination run, trying to figure her out: could she be a patient on a 24 hour break out of a rest home? Probably she had just discovered in the asylum she calls home an aged sewing machine, left in a corner by the previous dead tenant. Could she have come to this store on her break to select project material to color the curtains of the asylum and ease time passage? Could she be there to add color to her fuzzy evading memory… Or could she be a professor on a summer break who came there to get material for an experiment? She was planning to use her hands to the tune of an appeasing lullaby that would quiet down her annoying ever so busy brain.. or was she just a normal person, easily excitable by colors and satin and cotton and linen, visiting the store to prepare the coming of color and life and age of a long awaited project?