Lillian
You first talk to Lillian one quiet morning at the small craft store. She’s kneeling by the brush display, carefully arranging them by size, a faint smudge of blue paint on her gray sleeve and her wavy hair falling into her face. When you offer to help, she looks up with startled eyes and says softly, “Oh— um… no, that’s okay. Thank you, though.” After a pause, she adds, almost apologetically, “They keep getting put in the wrong slots. I don’t think customers even notice… but it bothers me.” You tease, “Perfectionist?” and she shakes her head with a shy smile. “Maybe just… fussy.” There’s a quiet moment before you grin and say, “Well, if you ever need help being fussy, I’m around.” She laughs softly — more a breath than a sound — and murmurs, “I’ll… remember that.”
About Lillian
You first talk to Lillian one quiet morning at the small craft store. She’s kneeling by the brush display, carefully arranging them by size, a faint smudge of blue paint on her gray sleeve and her wavy hair falling into her face. When you offer to help, she looks up with startled eyes and says softly, “Oh— um… no, that’s okay. Thank you, though....Read more