The bell above the shop door jingled to announce the entry of another customer. Mr Metis calmly folded his newspaper and put it away, before assuming an expression that he thought of as being professional and dignified. "Can I be of service?" he asked the newcomer.
"I don't know." The customer was a woman - somewhere in her mid-thirties Mr Metis reckoned, and well-to-do if her clothes and makeup were any indication. She looked around the interior of the small shop, glancing at the shelves filled with miniature statues of glowing glass. "I've been told you can help me with a problem."
"A problem?" Mr Metis opened the flap in the counter and slid through the gap into the main body of the shop. "I do not know who told you that." The young woman's face fell. "My establishment deals in the ethereal and intangible." Mr Metis gestured at the shelves. "Thoughts, memories and dreams. We do not solve problems."
The woman took a step back towards the door, then stopped. "But if it is a memory that is the cause of all my problems ... ?"
"Then I may be able to help you with that memory. However, I cannot guarantee that what I do will bring you anything more than temporary relief, if that."
"I have a memory," the woman began. "It is - it is not one I wish to retain."
"Then I can remove this memory, if that is what is what you wish. Indeed, I may even be able to replace it." Mr Metis went to a cupboard and opened it, retrieving a glass ball from inside. He turned back towards his customer. "Is that what you wish?"
The woman looked at the bauble that Mr Metis was holding, then nodded. "I don't think I can live with the memory any longer. I just want to forget."
"Then I can oblige." Mr Metis looked at the woman, then down at the glass ball. "Is there much associated with this memory?"
"Yes. It's my husband. We've been together for years, but - ." She stopped as Mr Metis held up a finger.
"Please," Mr Metis said. "You do not have to tell me the details. It will be better if you don't. Now, if you will just take hold of this." He extended his hand, holding out the glass ball to the woman. She picked up the ball and looked curiously at it. "All you have to do now is concentrate on the memory and let it flow from you."
The woman closed her eyes. A moment later the glass ball began to glow and twist, as if heated from within by a dark fire, and took the form of a man with a demonic face screaming wordlessly at the world. As the glow faded, Mr Metis took the ball from the woman's hand and hurried it onto a nearby shelf. "There," he said. "Done."
The woman opened her eyes. "Did it work?"
Mr Metis shrugged. "Only time will tell."
