Amerald slowly and groggily awoke one morning, feeling no need to do anything for the day. He didn't feel well. What was his plans? Oh yes, just another day in the shop. That did not peak his interest. Cleaning? Dusting? Dealing with angry and unruly customers? No thanks...not today, especially since he was quite under the weather. A stuffy nose, the chills, it just wasn't a good day at all.

He slowly got himself out of bed, deciding he would definitely just stay in the back of the house today. He felt no need to open the shop unless some type of emergency occurred and someone needed his help bad. But how likely was that? He scoffed at the idea of anyone becoming so injured or so in need of his services that he completely stopped thinking about the shop altogether. Maybe a good book would do?

He walked himself up the stairs and into the main part of the house wrapped up in his favorite blanket. It was cold, and morning was peaking. As he walked into the living room, Annabelle sat upon the farther couch with a book in hand. "Well hello there father. Are you alright? You seem...rather sick." the words escaped her mouth.

"I...def'nitely don't feel all dat well." he said, obviously stuffed up and clogged. He went into the kitchen to gather supplies for making some tea. He always loved a good cup of tea; it seemed to melt his cares away. What exactly was he going to do? He hated the idea of opening the shop. Maybe something would come along and change his mind?