today there is a short story.
one snowy morning, a foreign lass woke up to the noises of a tumble dryer and she got dressed and she skidded down the hill of icey doom into town to buy some fabrics for her project but alas the little old ladies store was closed. then she went to the raggy jazz playing book shop. closed too.
so in her subconscious the words 'green sweater' cried out in desperation and she automatically went into a random clothes shop that played morrissey singing about how hector was the first in the band with a gun in his hand the first to do time the first in the gang to die, and she bought a zipup hoody that was soft and smelled of brand new car seats.