The old lady, not so little, sat behind the glass counter like Mrs Slocombe's older sister. Her pink lipstick had feathered, bleeding into the puckered wrinkles around her mouth. She smelt of Tweed and gin. It was a dark day outside and when the bell of the shop chimed to admit a fresh customer her voice rasped, 'Hello there, dear.' in tones that would have suited the phrase, 'What the hell do you want?' much more.
She wore a grey dress with a nylon blouse underneath, the colour of which was probably invented purely for I-tell-it-like-it-is brigade. She had a on a home knit cardi, of a similar hue to the blouse, slung around her shoulders with one button done up at the neck, over which the golden beads from her glasses' chain dangled and swing when she moved.
Her kind are passing. I wonder if I will miss them? If anyone will?
Time up.
Inspiration:The kind of ladies who volunteer for charity shop work, to 'do their bit'. I saw a couple today. Why do they really do it?
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I would really welcome constructive comments or perhaps even some inspiration. To be honest , I would settle for some encouragement.