The store is filled to the brim with forgotten memories. Every corner of the library of the past is at its core clean of all dust, the objects in them a shield for the deep red carpet. When the shine of the sun peaks in late in the evenings through the small shop window the air glitters with dust collected over the years. Some visitors have likened it to a silent snowstorm others say it's dust from the fairies inhabiting the shop. The old man sitting behind the counter simply implies his fascination with time and the memory in itself that someone was here to create this fine layer of dust.
"Who am I if not a creature of the past,"
He regularly reminds the passer through collecting a relative's vintage diary.
"And wouldn't it be a shame if I, as a creature of memories were to erase the particles from all the other memories that have entered my space"
The passer through hands over their value snickering at this old man whose memories themself has begun to leak out into the room.
Behind the desk, there is a safe, built in the early sixties with a heavy iron exterior. On tuff days the man behind the desk, he who is built out of memories rests his tired feet on its top. On others, he sits with its surface behind his back. The cold is a reminder of what lays berries inside, both in him and the safe. The store's most closely guarded memory. A secret so delicate the dying breath of a maggot could snuff it out of existence.
"If you love something you must let it free, but always have a place open for it to return to"
Words etched into the back of the safe by a young hand not yet worn by the stories that will write. If you look closely at its right-hand side you can see the shadow of a keyhole at the very back. You will wonder, just like the woman that once snuck behind the desk, if this is where the fairies live or if the rust has simply eaten its way through the metal with time. The man knows though. After all, he was there when it was made, and just as any other memory he stores it on the top shelf there no one can reach. Once in a dark moon he drags the creaking stepstool over to the back and climbed up, living his late years again reminded how his love told him as they drilled a hole in the safes side,
"My dear, you have to see. See - a ghost can travel through all and see the world as they want. But I shall not be a ghost, my love, I shall be a soul drifting in this space next to you for all your days. But a soul cant go through walls, and therefore we'll make this whole hidden from view. Here, see right here at the right-hand side, here will my opening be. The passway for my soul to drift through when it arises from its slumber. For this safe is our love and this shop is our world. So when I now pass, keep me in your heart and let me travel the world freely with you"
And to the old man in the shop of memories, lets a breath out. Warm as the summer sun through a window at night a creature lands out of view. Observing the quiet store, dust sparkling in the still air, another memory filed away in their soul.
As for the man, he shatters to mild wonder, sinking to the floor in the calm summer sun.
A new memory, another view, out of body but sound in mind. The souls reunite in love, ready to continue their lives.
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Thank you for reading and hoped you enjoyed it.
If you found any spelling errors feel free to comment below and I will work to fix them.
