The bell jingles like a pixie up to no good, but the door whines louder - rudely loud for such a quiet place like this.

I close the door carefully, clicking it into frame as if the walls around it would crumble otherwise.

I stomp my boots against the welcome mat, slush melting around the cursive lettering. I look up at the room no bigger than most basements.

Even without all these knick-knacks that lost their use long ago, this room looks like a snapshot of a time I never knew myself.

Shelves and clocks line the sides, irregularly shaped and leaving few gaps in between. The fading cranberry wallpaper casts a strange darkness, like a pool of old blood with no one to scrub it away.

The tables in the middle, none of them matching, seem to be antique as well, although I can’t tell if they’re for sale. Someone placed each item strategically, where I can see glimpses of everything from where I stand at the entrance, enough to catch my eye without revealing all its secrets.

“Hello?” I call out, my voice croaky.

The walls absorb it, and they don’t offer anything in return.

I step forward, and the floorboard creaks below me.

My head feels heavy, like I’m balancing a bowling ball on my shoulders. This coat protected me from the snowfall all evening, but now its warmth traps me.

The lamps on every other table glow different shades of yellow, all trying to outdo each other. The one closest to me boasts a shade someone sewed blue and red birds into. I slow down at this one, the garish gold stand blinding me, then keep moving.

A wooden box sits on the other side, its many drawers and flaps are closed but inviting. How can something do small keep so many compartments?

I reach forward, my cold-cracked skin and numb fingers like puppets on strings, separate from my body. When I push open a flap on the side, something glints inside.

A necklace, hanging from a tiny hook.

I blink.

I’m no expert. I’ve never owned jewelry that wasn’t from a dollar store, but this silver looks very real.

I look up and around. No one else is here.

I know that the door’s sign read OPEN. Would someone leave that out there with the door unlocked if they weren’t around for customers? I feel like the owners should - would - be careful enough not to make that mistake.

Especially when valuables like this are so close to the entrance.

I back away as far as I can from this jewelry box.

Something moves in the corner of my eye. Like a shadow, changing under a moving light.

I glance over my shoulder, then double-take.

A grandfather clock looms behind me. Its face looks down at me, standing tall on a curved stand. The hands stay still, the hour stuck at 3:00 and the minute at 12:00.

No sound here, other than my breathing.

Oil paint and leather and dust bleed together, the smell trying to choke me from the inside out.

My limbs feel tight. Muscle memory disappears from me.

I cough, and something in the air releases.

I move again, one foot stumbling until I catch my self.

Shuffling along the narrow walkway, I search for price tags. I imagine paper ones with small prices written in dark red marker, looking as vintage as the item itself. I don’t find that, or any other type of price tag.

I stop.

A bowl sits on check-out counter, small wrapped candies peeling over the rim. The light over it brightens - or maybe that’s just my imagination.

My stomach rumbles, running on nothing but breakfast.

I walk towards the back, quicker than before, passing war memorabilia and China plates and antique dolls. I lean over the bowl.

Nothing will fill me up. In fact, I know from experience that it might only make me hungrier than before, getting my body ready for a meal only to receive scraps.

My fingers, no longer as numb, hover over the candies, like a child playing eenie-minie-moe. I snatch one. I clutch it in my palm, then frown. I look at it again.

Whatever’s inside seems to be hard, like a rock. Maybe a peppermint?

Something creaks from the other side of the room.

I turn, and the candy slips out of my hand.

The door’s lock turns to the side, clicking into place.