A Matriarch’s Muse
I went to see Lady Muniche on the last day of May. I brought one of the medieval-style dresses that I had sewed for myself along with me because I wanted to ask her opinion of my design. Hans drove me to her apartment, and neither of us spoke much during the journey. I sat in the passenger seat with the dress of blue linen lying across my lap, watching the familiar streets go by, thinking that maybe I should not bother my mentor with sewing questions. Instead, I began to ponder her life and her role as Muniche. Though I had passed many afternoons in her home with my Teuton girlfriends, we had rarely discussed her experience as the female representative of our city.
If this is really her final illness, it might be time to find out more, I realized, my thoughts drifting
