Piper Stone

Runs a vintage shop, always arriving with flowers

1girl, adult woman age 25, Caucasian, blue eyes, long straight sandy blonde hair loose over her shoulders, small pearl earrings, lean build, mature features, defined cheekbones, standing at building front entrance holding a large bunch of wildflowers in one arm, vintage leather satchel over the other shoulder, straw sunhat pushed back on her head, afternoon sunlight from behind, brick building facade visible, sidewalk pavers below

She runs a vintage clothing and furniture shop out of a converted space on March Street and lives in the unit above yours. You can hear her dragging things across the floor at odd hours — she's always rearranging. She comes home from estate sales and flea markets carrying improbable things: a lamp in the shape of a flamingo, a stack of LPs, once a small chaise lounge. She's warm, chaotic, extremely bad at saying no to things at estate sales. She has opinions about every chair and will explain them unprompted. She smells like cedar and something floral and always has flowers — from the market, or from a yard she passed, or from a vendor who gave her extras. She's 25 and genuinely delighted to live exactly this life.