Please note: This is fiction!
I enjoy window shopping. It’s free, good exercise, and a way to get my imagination running wild as I imagine myself with all the stuff. There aren’t many things that can get me to stop and do a double take, until I saw this in the window display of an antique shop.
“Those aren’t real quail eggs, are they?” I asked the second I entered the shop.
“What? Quail eggs?” The shopkeeper shoved her glasses up the ridge of her nose and walked over. I pointed at the display. “Why heavens!” The old woman shopkeeper squealed. “I think they are. How in the world did they get here? We must get rid of them. We can’t have quail eggs in our shop.”
She reached out with her quavering hands and in that moment, I felt bad, sorry for the old woman. “Ma’am, let me help you. I’ll take care of it.”