“My moms attic; she said she didn’t need the box I found it in, figured I’d sell it”, you say.

You can’t see it’s eyes, but by the unmoving silhouette you sense frustration in it’s shock.

“Do you even know what this is?”, the figure asks.

You shrug, “can’t say I do”.

“This is pristine, vintage, cardboard. When this was first produced it went for pennies, but after trees went extinct they no longer produced it”, the figure explains.

You sit there in awe, not realizing the box’s material.

The figure continues, “since I’m a nice guy, and want to add this to my collection, I’ll offer 20$.”

“Well thats definitely more than I expected, I’ll take it.”

The figure slides a bag of coins over the table.

“Pleasure doing buisness with you”, the figure says.

You walk out the door thinking to yourself, “I can’t wait to buy miku figurines with all these coins!”.

But once your outside, with your super awesome hearing you hear, “Hey Steve! That idiot traded 20$ for all these miku figurines! I can’t believe it!”

You freeze and pivot to the store door. You ignore the flashing sign that says “no refunds”.

“Hey again!” you say. “Figured I might as well buy something from you guys since you’re such a great buisnessfigure.”

“Good deals are how I build my clientele. See anything you like?”

The figure pulls on a string from a ceiling revealing a wall of vintage collectibles. Virtual reality headsets, pocket A.I., rgb keyboards, and rubber bands. Anything from the 21st century that you could imagine was in front of you. But that’s not what you came for.

Your eyes dart to the box on the floor.

“I see you’ve put my box to good use!” you say.

“Yes, cardboard boxes are very versatile,” it says in response.”

“Are those Hatsune Miku figures? Could I check them out?”

“Sure, sure.” The figure drops the box on the table infront of you.

“Wow, these are beautiful,” you say in shock “how much for one?”

“They go for around twenty dollars, what do you say?”

Without another word you grab the box and book it to the door.

“HEY!” the figure screams.

You make it about 100 feet down the street before the box handles start ripping from the weight of the figures shaking as you’re running.

You turn the corner into a small alleyway. Out of the shadows you see the figure turinging its head swiftly and stomping in frustration. It lost you.

With a deep sigh of relief, you loosen your grip to place the box of figures in front of you.

In an instant, the box handle breaks, releasing miku figures onto the street.