Fed up with her brother's predilection for the wooden doll, Sissy left her family's log cabin and set down dusty ol' Timber Road to build a life for herself- one free from the rigidity and heat of mens' desires. Her path would lead to the reflective polish of Oaktown. Offering cool refinements, unwary venturers soon discovered that Oaktown's promise hid the grit of a place as indifferent to its inhabitants as the blank city gates which swung wide to admit sweethearts, scoundrels, killers and marks with the same heavy sigh.
Like so many of us, Sissy left her home with its hot bothers and knots in search of the freedom of somewhere else. And like us, she left alone, without that smart and sturdy traveling companion, experience. Fresh in mind, unburdened by perspective, she tottered like a colt, all knees and lank. Her freshness brought peril and it brought luck but mostly it brought her right back round to the things she hoped to escape. And thus our sweet Sissy, who in leaving her familiar woes bravely chose possibility over assurances, who left to escape the grating rasp of men, opened a brothel.
She did her job and did it well. She lived long enough to grow old. Sissy had pleasures and she was able to satisfy them- clotted cream on candied lemon, new hats piled with ribbon, a little dog named Gingerbell. And she gathered experience up in her arms like a woman just come home. It had managed to find her somewhere along the line.
