A Time for Secrets

Of course, near silence was no way to get anyone’s attention. It seemed that the gentle groans of the floorboards beneath her feet offered a louder announcement than her softly spoken greeting and question, but even that was not loud enough to alert the proprietor of the establishment to the presence of a customer. A single silver bell waited upon the counter, its button poised to be pressed so that its chime might beckon the old clerk that owned the shop. Shockingly, given the disarray of the rest of the shop, the counter itself was relatively clear and even well polished, the ancient wood gleaming from the glow of the electric lights scattered around the room. No two lamps seemed to be of the same style, each an intricately crafted and unique artifact. And so, her greeting was answered with silence, the stock her quiet audience.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” grumbled a voice on the other side of the door behind the counter. A series of dull thumps approached the door before it swung open, the hinges creaking in protest to being used. An old man stood in the open doorway, his head capped by an almost shapeless bundle of brown cloth. “What can I do for you, Miss?” he asked, his blue eyes settling on her. Around his eyes, his wrinkled skin creased even more as he looked her up and down. A shadow of displeasure fell across his face when he realized she wasn’t someone he recognized, but he held his tongue for a moment, as he approached the counter from the other side.