So… the thing about Mary was that she thought everything here was the best thing ever. It wasn’t a high bar, at least as far as I could see. From the look of her village, clean would have been enough. Except it wasn’t just clean here. There was magic, and art, and… more things than she ever could have dreamed of, and she wanted to look at them all. Every chandelier, every painting, every floor tile. If we passed a window she had to look out of it. Leaving little sticky fingerprints behind, the staff began to clean as soon as she had moved on to the next thing that caught her eye. I apologised, but they waved us off. Rolling their eyes fondly, and watching us go.
“And what’s that?” Mary asked for the millionth time, and we had to run and catch up with her. She talked to everyone we’d come
