I always forget that UT’s shop is two stories tall
I always wonder what it was like (for the others), to share a street corner with UT.
Constantly hearing laughing at any hour of the day/night, the smell of chemicals and cookies lingering around, hearing the little shop bell jingle along with crying or upset people
But also, let us not forget about the very clever flower shop owner across the street, which is still a thing today. Ye shall always find a flower shop within a two minute’s walk from a funeral home.
I think I know what’s on the second floor.
Bizarre dolls.
Lots and lots of bizarre dolls.
Actually, it’d be his living quarters.
Reblogged from crimsonfirebolt
