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Go ahead, ask for sunlight. The storeowner will turn her head at your query. She will be standing behind the counter, unmoving as her selection of wares. Assorted doodads and questionable thingies decorate the dingy walls and tables, leaving slight elbow room for movement straight from the entrance to the counter. It’s no wonder this enterprise is often ridiculed. Sunlight is thought to be earned naturally, through constant nurturing, of course. You are aware of this, and ask without falter.
She replies: What kind? We have various sorts of those. 100% pure sunlight is our bestseller; distilled sunlights are currently out of stock but our mini-sunlights are a sufficient alternative. They also come in citrus and menthol for extra pleasure. Pick your poison, good sir.
Ask her if they have the Lightlight in stock. She will ask: Do you require it for any special occasion?
Do not look into her eyes. Say it’s for something personal, after which she will step into the stock room behind her. Her inquisition is protocol but largely avoidable.
You will wait a while, tapping your sandals upon the sandwood, long enough to notice something brilliant flow from the store’s entrance. A glistening mademoiselle, swathed in lunar white―as though she had risen from the surface of the moon and left a crater in her wake. But there was something peculiar about her radiance, ever so minutely an off-color white. Try not to make eye contact―but you will fail regardless. She is so beautiful, you discern, that you nearly forget your business in this establishment. She will make a request, addressing you as part of the staff:
She: The lightest you have, please.
Do not fret, for this was meant to happen. Follow this line of dialog carefully: (she will always have to reply accordingly)
You: It appears we have identical quests.
She: That is irrelevant. Is the storetender unavailable?
You: I have spoken with her; we will soon possess what we yearn.
She: You can’t be certain we seek the same thing.
You: The same means always leads to the same end.
She: Debatable, but we delay; the storetender has returned.
Returning via the backroom door, the storeowner regrettably announces that they are out of stock on Lightlights.
The off-white moongirl will rotate on her heels and exit the store with as much grace as she entered. You will have no other choice but to run after her.