Being careful to favor her right wing, she flew north to Spicetown. Although it made her nervous to be just a few blocks from where the creepy Richard Baudgew lived, she figured that Spicetown was the best neighborhood she knew to do what she needed to do. As soon as she landed, she began walking as fast as she could along the crowded streets. Lots of people looked at her wings, but she ignored them. After three blocks, she darted into a narrow store selling ethno-clothes. Inside, the lights, oozing like an oil spill, made it almost impossible for Prissi to tell what color of clothing she might be buying. Between glances to see if anyone was staring through the windows, Prissi pawed through racks of brightly dyed poorly made clothes until she finally found two tops and two pairs of yurskins dyed a polluted river brown. She handed the clerk, who looked to be Ethiopian, cash, then vibrated while he processed her purchases in African time. Six blocks away she found a pair of used brown lightweight flight shoes.
