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About Wellington

She’s called Ruby—fake name, probs. Eyes like burnt coal, tired but sly. “I’ve seen it all,” she mutters, and I’m like, “Yeah, me too.” Reminds me of that line—“I’m a walking, talking, living doll.” She’s playin’ a part, ain’t she? We chat—turns out she’s got a kid. Shocked me, that. “Gotta eat,” she shrugs. Fair dos—life’s a grind.

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Finally, I get to my shop on Cook Street. It’s a cozy little spot, but today it felt like a sauna. I’m sweating like a pig, and my first customer walks in. This lady, bless her heart, wants her heels fixed. But they’re like, ancient. I’m talking about shoes that probably walked the first steps of Howick. I’m thinking, “Lady, these are beyond saving.” But I smile and say, “Sure, I can work my magic.”

Howick College student unveils debut exhibition