[PQ] [se] promise me that you'll leave the light on

Amalia stands behind the bakery counter with baited breath, waiting. It feels so strange to do something so small, at least compared to their last set of ventures. The bakery is cozy in the Leafchange evening, lit by candles and the embers of the oven and permeated by the aroma of earlier bakes. On the counter sits a plate of scones and sweet, spiced ginger cookies, as well as a large pot of cinnamon-and-cardamom tea, and on the table in the front of the shop the lantern materials rest. There are a few options: an old glass frame dusty with age, ready for a wash and perhaps a coat of paint. A length of silk rescued from the attic; some fine tissue paper in a collection of colors beside a small jar of paste. And there is wire and string and thin strips of wood, the basis for a frame upon which to make art. Amalia herself has a small stack of paper on the counter beside her; a pair of already made but undercorated lights in green and silver sit on top. Nibbling thoughtfully on a scone, she tries to hide her own anxiety while waiting for others to come. This is an open PQ to make lanterns for the festival of lights! First come, first serve. The'll be 3-4 spots 1. 2. 3. 4. Amalia Her eyes, they know too much. She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.