I breathed deeply the fresh woodsy air and adjusted the leather bound books of my booth. The cannon announcing the opening of Faire had already been shot, and it was just a matter of time before people started streaming through the lane in front of me. I was quickly lost in the current of old friends long unseen and patrons coming in.
During the first lull in the crowd, a man came to the register with several small notebooks with Celtic symbols etched into them; some of my newer pieces. I smiled at him, glancing at his face briefly before taking the proffered card. The receipt printed off, and as I started to lay it out to hand him, I read his name.
I Didn't Just Wake Up This Morning With A Craving 