Tub of Ice part VII

Just to be clear,

 Fesili had to eat an apple.

Then, 

  I caved in,

    and she had her pastry.

Also,

 I refuse to consider brussels sprouts.

We walk for awhile.

  Both of our eyes are full of wonder.

She is looking at something new.

  I am seeing the changes.

Finally,

 we reach our destination.

She studies the fountain.

 Wondering.

I stay quiet.

  Part of telling a story is knowing when to start.

Finally,

 she asks.

  "What is the story?"

We have developed a relationship.

"There are many versions.

  I like the simple one.

 Once there was a cobbler,

   not the pie,

  the person who made shoes."

"But what about the pie?"

"Another story, for another place.

  Now,

    the cobbler, 

     and remember this is not the pie,

    was about to lose his home.

   It was not because of lack of work,

     he couldn't keep up."

"Why?  How hard is it to make shoes?"

"It was a different time.

  Making shoes was an art-form.

The sad part was the needed materials.

 The leather cost too much,

   and it took too much time.

The cobbler started to sell a few household items,

  never telling his wife.

Of course,

  she noticed,

    but acted like she didn't"

"Why?  She should ask."

Of course she would say that.

"The cobbler didn't want to worry his wife.

  Yes, she could see their lives slowly slipping away,

    Still, she could see him trying.

 Now, this brings us to the next part of the story.

One evening,

 exhausted,

   and unable to finish a pair of shoes,

  the cobbler fell asleep.

His uneaten dinner set beside his head.

Waking in a start,

  knowing he has lost even more,

he is amazed to see an empty plate.

Also, two pairs of shoes."

"How?"

I smile,

  and say,

  "Now, that is a story."