You idly looked around the shop for a moment, before turning back to Cleo. This was a little too weird.
“While that’s tempting, I really just want those directions. What’s the fastest way back to the town center?”
Cleo eyed you a little bit, almost as though she were impressed with you. “Well, as I said. You’ll find your way home once you find what you’re looking for.” As she moved back to where she had been standing before making your acquaintance, she picked up a black piece of cloth and needle and began to sew. Oddly, she never once broke eye contact while doing so though.
“Right...but.... I mean you see how that kind of doesn’t make any sense?” you managed.
Cleo smiled. “Perhaps what you’re looking for isn’t something from the shop, but something from me.” She stopped sewing after a minute and admired her handiwork. As she let the black cloth fan out, you couldn’t help but stare at it. It looked straight out of Harry Potter. That wasn’t what transfixed you though. With each swish of the fabric, the light seemed to catch a million little sparkles sewn in. It looked like Cleo was holding a piece of the night sky.
“You like it?” Cleo asked, noticing your appreciation, “It’s my old cloak. I managed to tear one of the seams during one of my recent experiments though.” She leaned across the counter in a conspiratorial way. “The part about inflation they don’t tell you is how hell it is on your wardrobe.”
You just blinked at her. She was weird. No wonder she knew dad.
Cleo threw on the cloak over her sweater, and you couldn’t help but idly wonder how she wasn’t burning up in the cramped shop. “So. If it’s from me - what is it I can help you with, Jack?”
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