Each antique brings back memories. The store is so old, it’s part of my childhood. “Pick one, any one” the man behind the desk said. I ran my hands against the brown, worn tables and eyed the vases and china. But one antique was special. It was a clock, older than the store itself. I heard a faint “tick, tock”. I felt the sides and suddenly, the store started to change. The items looked newer, and the walls were clean. I looked at the clock. People were lugging boxes into the store. A young man grinned and said “Welcome.”