Halo, she of the deft Sun gleam and beam nails flicked furiously thru the menagerie of stamps at her hub, that gracefully enunciated  work station.

Halo,  the feisty stamp accumulator.

There used to be that imperishable spark in her eyes when avidly and enthusiastically grasping at the prospect  of  attending philately carnivals.

However, today it was a stern, dismal disheartened  Halo who now floundered and wrestled with her burden.

The spark yet sparkle had vanished like a finger flash  magician’s elaborate trick that would mysteriously dupe even the most cynical of otherwise alert audiences.

Halo the philatelist pharaoh and her partner

Hank the Handkerchief man tear shedder of joy or laughter and postman for that antique pillar, monument and  fixture, the local post office.

They both had this spellbound diversion of stamp catalogues and antique associated labels.

Allied to the billowing  fire in their veins that palpitated.

The warmth they felt for each other was a smoky mirror of their STAMPED bounce.

The occasional cigar even added to their quite outlandish  acquaintance which would mouse trap the career nosey breed.