Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

one of the sick outhouses. I’m a feral creature.
Is that the word? You would hate all this
crunchiness, Tib, but it is perfect for me. The
thought of a shower under a ceiling makes
me claustrophobic. Do you think anyone would
notice if I started going to the bathroom in
the backyard? Ha. Just kidding.
I think I wasn’t made for houses.
Love,
Contemplative Bee
Lena got directions to the forge and a bag of pastries from
the lady in the bakery. “Antio, beautiful Lena,” the lady
called. The town was small enough that all the locals now
knew her as “shy and beautiful” Lena. “Shy” was the sympathetic
interpretation she got from older people. “Snotty” was
the unsympathetic one she got from people her own age.
From the bakery Lena walked herself to the forge, a
low, detached brick building with a small yard at the
front. Through the open double doors of the dark
building she could see the blue-and-orange fire at the
back. Was there seriously still a business in making
horseshoes and boat fittings? She suddenly felt a kind
of deep, twingy sorrow for Kostos and his grandfather.
Kostos’s bapi no doubt dreamed that his grandson
would take over the family business and run it into the
next century. But she also guessed that Kostos hadn’t
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