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"I'm out," she whispered, shaking an empty, crinkled plastic bag. Not a single tuft of white fluff remained. She needed Poly-Fil, and she needed it before the party at five.
Martha smiled, knowing that whether it came from a big-box store or a local shop, the "magic" was in the stuffing.
The old sewing machine hummed a rhythmic tune, a steady thwack-thwack-thwack that usually brought Martha peace. But today, she sat staring at a flat, sad-looking fabric dragon. It was supposed to be a birthday gift for her grandson, Leo, but it looked more like a pancake than a mythical beast.
What if Ishe thought. She eyed the massive 5-pound box on the bottom shelf. It was a better deal, but she didn’t want to haul a cloud-sized box into her trunk.
By 2:00 PM, Martha was back at her dining room table. Sarah had come through with a fresh bag of Poly-Fil from Walmart. Martha began stuffing the dragon, using a wooden spoon to push the fluff into the very tips of the wings. The dragon began to grow, its belly rounding out, its neck standing tall and proud. It was soft, squishy, and perfectly huggable.
Martha put the bag back on the Joann shelf—she’d save a few bucks and a second trip. On her way home, she felt a pang of guilt for not supporting the tiny boutique shop downtown, . They didn’t always have the big corporate bags, but they often sold high-quality wool stuffing or smaller bags of bamboo fill for specialty projects.
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"I'm out," she whispered, shaking an empty, crinkled plastic bag. Not a single tuft of white fluff remained. She needed Poly-Fil, and she needed it before the party at five.
Martha smiled, knowing that whether it came from a big-box store or a local shop, the "magic" was in the stuffing.
The old sewing machine hummed a rhythmic tune, a steady thwack-thwack-thwack that usually brought Martha peace. But today, she sat staring at a flat, sad-looking fabric dragon. It was supposed to be a birthday gift for her grandson, Leo, but it looked more like a pancake than a mythical beast.
What if Ishe thought. She eyed the massive 5-pound box on the bottom shelf. It was a better deal, but she didn’t want to haul a cloud-sized box into her trunk.
By 2:00 PM, Martha was back at her dining room table. Sarah had come through with a fresh bag of Poly-Fil from Walmart. Martha began stuffing the dragon, using a wooden spoon to push the fluff into the very tips of the wings. The dragon began to grow, its belly rounding out, its neck standing tall and proud. It was soft, squishy, and perfectly huggable.
Martha put the bag back on the Joann shelf—she’d save a few bucks and a second trip. On her way home, she felt a pang of guilt for not supporting the tiny boutique shop downtown, . They didn’t always have the big corporate bags, but they often sold high-quality wool stuffing or smaller bags of bamboo fill for specialty projects.