Patty

Everyone knows Patty. Patty knows everyone. That's the way it has been for forever, and that's how it will continue to be in the future.
Patty is old. Nobody know exactly how old she is. There have been rumors that she's really an immortal person, but we all know that that isn't true.
She stands about five feet tall. She's thin as a stick, but we all know that she's healthy. Her hair is as white as snow and her eyes, a very light blue.
Patty owns the general store. It's the only place in town with central air conditioning. The townsfolk gave that to her as a gift after her husband died.
She's ran that store forever. I remember walking in that store when I was four or five. She has jars filled with candy on her counter, and I would stare at them dreamily, wishing that I would be able to eat a licorice mint. I would ask my mother, but she wouldn't dare to spend any money on penny candy. So, when my mother was in a separate isle, Patty would take out a licorice mint out of the jar and hand it to me. She then would put a finger to her lips and wink. It was our little secret.
The store itself is tiny. It only has the essentials that a person needs to survive. There's a huge chain grocery store about 20 miles away, and that's where everybody gets exotic foods like pineapples and peaches. We only really go to the general store to buy things when we've run out, or when we just want to talk to Patty. In fact, so many people would just come to talk to her, that Patty set up a little table next to her counter as a place where she could sit with someone and have a conversation. Usually, people go in at least once a week but there are some people, like Mrs. Gibson that go in there all the time. When you do go though, Patty treats you like you're in her home, and offers you tea and homemade cookies that she made herself. We all take the cookies, even though we know that they're going to taste awful. Patty is not the world's best cook.
During the summer, Patty lets us teenagers clear a corner in her store where we can sit and talk. We usually sit next to the dairy section, where it's nice and cool. We stay there all day. Patty doesn't even mind. We bring in lawn chairs, blankets, and board games to play. Sometimes, when business is slow, Patty will come over and tell us a story. Her stories are always the best. She'll usually tell us about her life when she was our age, but sometimes, she'll tell us a story about Gregory Peck.
Patty is Gregory Peck's biggest fan. She has a framed picture of him hanging on the wall behind her counter, right next to her wooden cross. She'll point to that picture with her little hand, and tell us the story about her favorite Gregory Peck movie, A Roman Holiday. We've heard the story hundreds of times, but it never ceases to capture our attention. Then, after the story, she'll say, "when I was young, all my friends and I promised, that if we ever ever saw Gregory Peck, we would tell him to come to my house immediately, so he could see his biggest fan." After she says that, she'll burst out laughing. "Needless to say, I never did meet him," is how she'll finish, and she'll go off to stand at the counter.