Flash Fiction #2 Reminiscent Regrets

The Antique Shop

Written by _yoontaetive_

The bell on the door rang signalling the arrival of a customer. Jimin stood up from the stool he was resting on and straightened his shirt to look presentable.

An old man pushed open the door and entered, his muddy footprints following him. His face was a criss-cross of wrinkles running everywhere. Through his heavy-lidded eyes behind the thick glasses, he peered at the objects in the shop.

"How can I help you, sir?" Jimin asked courteously, desperate to sell at least one item.

"You wouldn't have to, young man", he replied and went past Jimin, observing every item. Left in silence, Jimin felt weird for he was used to guiding customers to the origin of these antique items and their age and eventually persuade them to buy one to decorate their house.

He followed the old man, who was now observing a woodblock print hanging on the wall.

"It's a-" Jimin began but got cut by the old man.

"It's a woodblock print of The Battle of Yalu river made by Kobayashi Kiyochika", he finished for Jimin, who was stunned to hear the knowledge.

"You know it?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Of course I do!" the old man laughed. "Jungkook never liked it."

Jimin stared with confusion at the old man. What was he saying? Who was Jungkook? And why does it matter if he liked it or not?

The man didn't answer the questioning look on the male's face and instead walked to the next item, a gramophone. He ran a wrinkled finger through the brass horn, scrutinizing the whole device.

"This gramophone is from-"

"The late 1940s, after the War, when things became a little more normal", the old man interjected again. Jimin didn't know if he should be angered or amazed by the knowledge of this man about these antique items.

"Jungkook was a lover of music", he stated with a smile, once again leaving Jimin in amusement and doubt. He walked off to the armchair sitting elegantly in a corner of the shop along with many others.

Jimin remembered being in awe when he was introduced to that specific armchair. As marvellous as it looked, it was a strong one, and endured more than he knew.

This time only, Jimin did not start first because he knew the old man knew more than him. But the old man didn't say anything but stared at it. There was something in his eyes that Jimin could not make out. Love, sorrow or regret, he didn't know.

"Won't you say anything?" Jimin asked, noticing the silence of the man.

"What do you know about this?" the man asked instead, looking up at him hopefully.

Jimin was caught off-guard to be questioned by the man with prime knowledge. It would be a lie to say that he didn't know. Of course he did! But the man asking him when he probably knew better, felt strange to him.

"I have interrupted you a few times. I don't want to do it again", he said, as a reply to Jimin's questioning face.

Taking it as a cue for him to begin, he said, "It's a piece made of pure mahogany wood from and crafted in India. It was shipped here back in the late 1950s."

"When war had just ended", he added.

"But how do you know them so well?" Jimin asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

The old man looked at Jimin for a couple of minutes before exhaling a shaky breath through his thin, pursed lips.

"You see those silvers?" he asked, pointing at the numerous silver plates and bowls and cups hanging from nails stuck on the wall. "I bought them as a gift for my husband, Jungkook."

"They're yours?" he asked, looking back at the old man who stood there with eyes closed, the sweet memories of painful pasts flashing like film within his inward eyes.

"Yes, they are", he slowly replied, opening his eyes to look at the younger male whose lips were agape.

Realization hit him when he connected the dots: his knowledge of the items, him knowing about their origin and talking about his husband every so often. They belonged to him. That woodblock print, that gramophone, this armchair and those silverwares, they belonged to him.

"I've been here too long", the man said, turning towards the exit. "I should leave."

"Wait!" Jimin cried behind him. "Won't you- I mean- don't you want to take them back? They're linked to your memories after all."

The old man stared at him for a good whole minute, then broke into a half-hearted chortle.

"Indeed they are linked with my memories, young man", he said, retracing his steps slowly. "But they bring pain too."

For a moment, Jimin saw the moisture resting on his wrinkled lash line, but they never came.

"Pain to know that they were the link of love for me and my husband. They bring nothing but regret when I reminisce about the sweet times and to know that I could have probably given him more love."

The young male felt his eyes prick as the words of the man overwhelmed him. These 'antique' pieces had once been the connection between two young men; the string of affection.

"I just came to see how they are now", the man said. "And anyways, they won't look good with broken window panes from which black-out paper still hangs."

The old man turned around, with a sad but contented smile on his face. His walking-stick made an echo through the walls of the shop as they hit the marble floor beneath. But he stopped upon reaching the door, and turned back ever so softly.

"I forgot to introduce myself", he said, shaking his head at his forgetfulness.

"I am Kim Taehyung, a mere survivor of the War."