5:26 p.m., April 3rd. Still the same slow-moving day. After Exila's father's return, He had forgot to bring home the one last ingredient for Mother's dinner- Honey Dew Pickles! Only the finest tiny shop in town sold them. Mrs. Drewig was the shop's keeper. She knew the family well, and often offered an extra sampling, or even a whole other jar for some holiday occasions. 
        "Alright, I just want to make sure you will only go to town. That doesn't mean to the flower field, Exila." My mother handed me my brown messenger bag. "I know. And plus, I'll be back in only the hour." I smiled to reassure my mother, but I knew she wasn't really even half-convinced. 
Walking out the