Other stories for this prompt

"It's gorgeous." breathes Nora, enchanted by the dress in the window.
"That's as may be," mumbled her husband, "but we can't afford it."
Nora sighed deeply; it was always the same story. Whatever she wanted, they couldn't afford. It was a different matter, when he wanted to go to the Working Man's Club, or whatever he got up to. Money just appeared out of nowhere for that.
Begrudgingly, she followed him as he walked off, hands in his pocket as usual.
"Just going to find a newsagents." he announced, barely waiting for a reply.
Fine, she thought, knowing that he'd...

"Ugh. I positively hate window shoppers," Eliza groaned while leaning over the counter top. "They never buy anything."

"Hence the name, window shoppers, dearest," Carla giggled softly at her friend who helped her run The Dress Emporium.

They had been working together for about five years now. The shop was doing great, although Eliza would say it could be better. She wishes we could get every person who walks by our store to purchase something.

"Oh, I can't bear to look at them anymore," Eliza folded her arms on the counter and rested her face on them. "Please, Carla. Make...

The mannequin looked so real, but was not. Apparently. At least that's what Mr Saunders always said, and he had to be right. He was a teacher, wasn't he? He was my teacher and, at nine years old, I believed every word he said.

And yet, every morning as I passed it on my walk to school, the mannequin - whom I had named Joyce - in the window of J. T. Kingsley's department store seemed to watch me as I went. Seemed to call to me, to invite me in. That was, after all, her job. But she did...