It's all one flower.

0074. First Work

I was allowed to bathe yesterday after breakfast and was allowed to rest in the guest beds at the manager's house.

It's a fuzzy futon to be afraid of.

Wrapped in a soft feeling, Amiela slept like she'd lost her mind.

By the time I woke up, the day was already tilting.

My father hasn't visited yet, and the manager and I had a little early dinner and slept again.

I feel like I had a dream, but I can't remember. He slept like a walking hand in mud.

My back and back hurt slightly this morning because I slept too much.

Amiella woke herself up on a fluffy bunk and slowly relaxed the savings.

It's quiet here, and yesterday, the story the manager asked me about seems like some distant dream story. No, this soft bed could be the dream.

Amiella went out to the kitchen to get herself ready.

The manager has already woken up and is just about ready for breakfast.

"Ah... good morning. Sorry, I can't help you..."

"It's okay. Because this is my kitchen. Sit down. Let's have dinner."

For breakfast this morning, a piece of stuffed bread and vegetable soup.

It's a meal as luxurious as any Amiella has ever seen.

"You get a good dashi out of the dried meat. I just picked the vegetables in the garden, so raise them before they cool down."

"Are you sure? Such a fine meal…"

"It's okay. Eat up and cheer up."

As the manager told me, Amiella brought the spoon to her mouth.

The old woman is right, another intense flavor from the cheese spreads all over her mouth. The good salt gas has crossed my body and my consciousness has become clear.

Eating obsessively, Amiela exhaled, howling.

I didn't know there was such a delicious thing in the world.

... Am I the only one who can eat such delicious food? Father, how are you doing?

After-dinner vanilla tea was brewed (brewed) by Amiella while the manager taught her.

A slow cup of tea for both of us made my body plump from my core and my anxiety faded.

"What do you say? Looks like we can work today?

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern."

When Amiella said well, the manager nodded satisfactorily.

When I sit in my usual seat at work, I feel like it's really nothing, like it's my usual day. The manager spread the thick canvas (solder) and model paper onto the workbench.

"Today, I want you to make a bag. Rucksack."

"Rucksack, is it"

"I'll change the needle on the machine, so this is the model paper."

The main tasks that Amiella was tasked with are the upper hem (soda) and the repair (mazuro), straight inches (soda), and I have little experience in making them from scratch. It was also a thin, easy-to-handle fabric, with skirts and other clothing and shopping bags and all that was easy.

"It's the same as before. I'll explain from the next step, so call me when you're done."

The manager gently urged (though) the confused Amiella to take her seat and embarked on another task.

Amiella also spreads fabric and mould paper and thinks about how to place it efficiently.

It's a sunken canvas with a thin asphalt pattern. This would make the rugged look much better.

I'm a little curious about what customers ordered.

I pushed the extra thought out of my head and proceeded with the work carefully to avoid failing.

Place the mould paper on the fabric, pull the line through the mould and ask the store manager to check it.

"Sounds good. The fabric is thick and stiff, so be careful."

"Yes."

Amiella takes the curtain and tries it out with the edge of the cloth. Stiff hands, but well-maintained chisels were well cut, and they made a heavy noise and cut them off.

Tidy the fabric again and start cutting.

There are many curves, not simple straight lines like skirts. Thanks to the solidity of the cloth, I don't have to worry about cutting it to the next part due to the momentum, but it was a long distance away from cutting out one part and my arm quickly got tired.

The body is almost straight, but there are many pockets and parts that I'm not sure about.

Cut the reinforcement material with a different cloth. This one is a little thinner fabric, easier than the main body, but more numerous.

In the end, the work alone hung me up until noon.

"It's okay. Slowly. Hurry up and cut your finger, it's not good."

The manager smiled at Amiella and glanced at the street.

"Besides, I don't have a single customer today."

Amiella noticed when she was told to do it.

He was obsessed at some point because it was his first task.

There were no people in the street.

If I can't take it and I don't have any problems with my clothes now, I guess I won't be able to use it for a tailor.

The two of us made lunch and ate slowly.

If you say anything, I feel that only anxiety and ominous words come up, and Amiela says nothing but a reply to the store manager.

Neither did the manager have the usual expression to try to behave calmly.

If the customers come, they may break this heavy silence.

Amiella expected, but soon changed her mind.

A customer might bring in a bad story.

In the afternoon I was briefed by the store manager, and quickly, I worked on sewing.

The fabric is thick and cannot be fastened with a waiting needle.

Amiella pressed the fabric with a clip and carefully stepped in the machine's pedal to keep it from coming off the seam marks.

The manager not only replaced the machine needle, but also the upper and lower threads with thick and durable ones.

Black, thick seams appear in gray fabric at equal intervals.

Create detailed parts such as shoulder belts, pockets, and lids first. Sew together the matching eyes of the cloth with reinforcement material to increase durability.

"Amiella, I'm going out for a little while. Leave a message, please."

Immersed in the task, Amiela looked up in haste.

The manager was completely at the door after the outing.

"Ha, ha."

"I don't have any customers anyway, and I'll keep the store closed, so you can never open it anywhere but me"

Put aside, the manager left the store leaving Amiella.

As soon as I was alone, I was struck by anxiety that was enduring.

I recall that east of the Autonomous Community, a large part of Barack Street burned down. This tranquillity is because of it.

I confronted the machine to calm my feelings.

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