A small brass bell tinkled overhead as B pushed open the heavy wooden door of the clothing shop.
The air inside smelled faintly of clean cotton, lavender, and freshly ironed fabric. The shop was far larger than it looked from the street, stretching deep into the building with tall wooden racks standing in neat, organized rows. There were sections for heavy men's work coats, elegant women's dresses, and tiny colorful outfits made for babies and small children.
Holding her paper bag of bakery treats under one arm, B took a step forward, her eyes scanning the racks.
Out of habit, her feet automatically began to turn toward the men’s section on the left, where simple jeans, plain dark t-shirts, and loose jackets hung in long rows.
'Ah, wait,' B stopped herself, staring blankly at a row of men's flannel shirts. She blinked, looking down at her own tiny pale hands, her long white dress, and the mountain of white hair spilling past her knees.
Right. She wasn't a twenty-three-year-old male corporate employee anymore. She was a fifteen-year-old girl. Buying a set of baggy adult men's clothes for a short, slender female body would look completely ridiculous and make her trip over her own pant legs.
"Better just ask the owner," B whispered in her soft, small voice.
Instead of wandering aimlessly through the endless racks, B walked toward the raised wooden counter at the back of the store.
Behind the counter stood a young woman tapping away at her smartphone. She had bright green hair, likely dyed, tied back into a bouncy ponytail, and she wore a stylish measuring tape like a scarf around her neck. And just like the baker woman down the street, this clothier possessed a remarkably massive chest that stretched her fitted apron tight, looking heavy enough to tire out anyone who had to carry it around all day.
B stood near the counter, holding her bag of bread. "Excuse me."
The green-haired woman turned her head down, her phone slipping slightly in her grip. When her eyes landed on B—a tiny girl with snow-white hair reaching her feet, pale skin, and huge, void-black pupils staring back up at her—she flinched violently, her shoulders jumping in surprise.
"Gah-!" The clothier gasped, holding a hand over her heart.
But unlike the baker, who had thrown a paper talisman in a panic, the green-haired woman’s shock vanished almost instantly. Her green eyes widened, and a look of pure relief and wonder washed over her face.
"Oh! Oh my goodness!" The clothier gasped, stepping around the counter and dropping down onto her knees in front of B. "Where did you come from, little angel? You scared me for a second!"
Without asking, the clothier reached out with both hands, gently patting and rustling B's long white hair, marveling at how soft and smooth it felt between her fingers.
B stood there like a quiet statue, letting the woman touch her hair. It felt a little strange, but she didn't have the energy to complain.
"What brings a cute little thing like you into my shop, hmm?" The clothier asked with a bright, beaming smile. "Are you lost?"
"No," B replied, her sleepy voice flat and calm. "I want to buy some clothes for myself."
"Clothes?" The clothier’s eyes sparkled with sudden, overwhelming excitement. Before B could react, the green-haired woman threw her arms wide and pulled B into a tight, crushing hug.
B's face was slammed directly into the clothier’s massive, soft chest.
In her old life as a guy, getting suddenly hugged by a beautiful woman with a huge chest might have made B completely flustered, red-faced, and embarrassed. But now, in this new body, B felt absolutely zero romantic or nervous feelings. There was no racing heart, no blushing, and no awkwardness.
There was only pure, physical suffocation.
"Mmph... mmph..." B muffled into the soft fabric, her small hands tapping weakly against the woman’s waist. She couldn't breathe.
"Ah! I'm so sorry!" The clothier laughed, quickly pulling back and letting B catch her breath. "You are just too adorable! I couldn't help myself!"
B took a deep breath of fresh air, her face completely emotionless. "It's fine. Just... air, please."
"Right, right!" The clothier stood up, taking a small wooden step-chair from behind the counter and setting it down on the floor. "Hop up here, sweetie. I need to measure you first."
B stepped onto the wooden chair, looking up at the taller woman. "Why measure me? I just want to buy things off the rack."
The clothier’s green ponytail bounced as she shook her head enthusiastically, pulling out her soft measuring tape.
"Because the moment I laid eyes on you, lightning struck my brain!" The clothier declared dramatically, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I haven't had a single drop of inspiration for months! I've been so depressed, staring at blank sketchbooks every night! But seeing you, your incredible white hair, your pale skin, those dark eyes, a whole new dress design just popped into my head! I have to make it!"
B blinked slowly. She didn't really understand fashion artists, but she didn't argue.
For the next ten minutes, the clothier moved around the small wooden chair like a whirlwind. She measured B's shoulders, her waist, her arms, the length from her neck down to her ankles, and even the thickness of her white hair.
For B, standing still on a wooden chair while someone stretched measuring tape across her body felt surprisingly exhausting. Her knees felt weak, and her eyes kept drooping low, longing for her soft couch back at the cabin.
"Done!" The clothier finally declared, snapping her measuring tape rolled back into her palm. "Perfect proportions! Now, let's get you some daily clothes from the racks while I work on your special dress."
B stepped down off the chair with a quiet sigh of relief.
The clothier led her over to the girls' clothing section, where rows of simple dresses, skirts, shirts, and shorts hung on polished wooden hangers.
B browsed through the racks, picking out basic, comfortable items that looked easy to wear while sweeping leaves or taking naps. She selected five complete outfits consisting of loose dresses and soft shorts to wear underneath. Two were black, one was simple white, one was a dark red, and two were a soft, muted green, a color B had always found pleasing and calm.
She brought her pile of folded clothes back to the counter, laying them down next to her paper bag of bakery bread.
"All these, please," B said, pulling her small stack of Vicks out of her pocket.
The clothier picked up the outfits, tallying them up on her notepad. "Let's see... standard price for these five sets would usually be 255 Vicks."
B froze, her small hand pausing inside her pocket.
'255 Vicks?' B thought, her mind quickly doing the math. 'I only have 172 Vicks left after buying the bread. I don't have enough.'
She was just about to pull two of the dresses out of the pile to lower the cost, but the clothier gave her a warm, motherly wink.
"However!" The clothier picked up a pencil and drew a big line through the number on her paper. "Since you cured my designer's block and gave me such wonderful inspiration today, I'm giving you a massive discount! Everything here is just 155 Vicks!"
B’s pitch-black pupils widened slightly. A full 100 Vicks off just for standing on a chair for ten minutes?
"Is that okay?" B asked softly.
"More than okay!" The clothier smiled brightly, taking three 50-Vick notes and a 5-Vick note from B's pale hand. "You saved my artistic soul, sweetie. A hundred Vicks discount is a bargain for me!"
She carefully folded the five outfits, wrapped them in clean brown paper, and tied the bundle tightly with a thick piece of twine, creating a convenient carrying handle for B to hold.
As she handed the neat bundle over, the clothier looked at B with a hint of concern in her green eyes.
"So, little one... why are you out buying clothes all by yourself?" The clothier asked gently. "Where are your parents?"
"I don't have any," B replied simply, taking the wrapped bundle into her arms. "I live and work at the Blackwood Cemetery. I'm the new grave keeper."
The clothier paused, her eyebrows raising in total surprise. "The Blackwood Cemetery? You? A tiny thing like you is working as a grave keeper?"
"Yes," B nodded. "The pay is good and the job is very quiet."
"Wait..." The clothier tapped her chin, looking confused. "What happened to the previous worker? That middle-aged man who used to handle the graveyard?"
B shrugged her small shoulders casually. "I don't know. He probably got fired or quit before I was hired."
In truth, B had no idea what had happened to her predecessor. Her mysterious employer hadn't mentioned anything about the person who held the job before her, and B was far too lazy to care or ask.
The clothier chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Well, I suppose that makes sense. Working alone in a big graveyard all night sounds terribly boring. He probably just packed his bags and left for the big city without telling anyone."
She leaned over the counter, tapping the neat paper bundle in B's arms.
"Anyway, when I finish making that special dress I measured you for, I'll send a message or bring it over to the cemetery myself, okay? No charge for that one. it's a gift!"
B's ears perked up. Free clothes?
"Free?" B asked to confirm.
"Completely free!" The clothier laughed.
"Okay," B said, giving a small, polite bow. "Free things are the best. Thank you very much."
Holding her bag of fresh bread in one arm and her heavy bundle of new clothes in the other, B gave the clothier a small wave of her hand.
"Goodbye," B said in her clear, soft voice, pushing open the heavy wooden door.
Ring-ring!
"Goodbye, sweetie! Stay safe on your way home!" The clothier called out warmly as the door shut.
Standing alone in her quiet shop, the green-haired clothier watched through the clean glass window as the tiny white-haired girl walked slowly down the stone street, her floor-length hair swaying rhythmically behind her boots.
The clothier folded her arms over her chest, a thoughtful look crossing her face.
Come to think of it... the previous grave keeper had vanished quite suddenly about a month ago. He hadn't told anyone in the village he was leaving, he hadn't packed up his things at his local apartment, and his landlady said he had just disappeared into thin air overnight.
There had been spooky rumors floating around the village for years that Blackwood Cemetery was haunted by terrifying spirits, and some locals claimed the old worker had been chased away or eaten by a monster.
The clothier shrugged, shaking her head with a small smile.
'People in small towns love making up ghost stories,' the clothier thought to herself, turning back to her wooden counter to pull out a fresh sketchbook and a pencil. 'The guy probably just got tired of sweeping leaves for low pay and snuck out to avoid paying his back rent.'
Still, looking at her new sketchbook, a small feeling of big-sisterly worry touched the clothier’s heart. Sending a frail, cute little girl like B to live all alone in a creepy old graveyard surrounded by silent tombstones felt a little sad.
'I'll make sure to finish this green and white dress quickly,' the clothier decided, her pencil beginning to fly across the white page, sketching the outline of a beautiful flowing dress. 'Then I'll visit her cabin with some warm tea and check up on her.'
Meanwhile, outside on the dirt road leading back toward the graveyard, B was walking at a very slow, relaxed pace.
Her pocket was almost completely empty now, she had only 17 Vicks left from her original total. But in return, she had a paper bag packed with warm loaves of white bread, sweet vanilla cream buns, and a free chocolate chip cookie. In her other arm, she had five brand new outfits that fit her tiny body, including two green ones she really liked.
The sun was starting to dip low in the western sky, painting the clouds in soft shades of orange, pink, and purple. A cool evening breeze rustled the tall trees along the road, carrying those same faint, whispering sounds through the leaves.
...sssshhhh... vvvvv...
B paid the whispering wind no attention at all.
She took another sweet bite of her chocolate chip cookie, chewing happily as she stepped through the grand iron gates of Blackwood Cemetery.
She was home.
Ahead of her, sitting peacefully under the shadow of the giant ironwood tree, was her small wooden cabin. Her tall broom was still leaning safely against the porch railing, and through the wide front window, she could see the soft, welcoming outline of her plush brown couch.
"Finally," B murmured, her large void-black pupils softening with deep satisfaction. "Nap time."
She stepped onto the wooden porch, pushed open the metal door, and carried her treasures inside, ready to leave the world behind for the rest of the night.
Author's Note
EliteToeCollector
Thanks for reading!