Agamemnon's Dowery

Chapter 4

Four years later:
"Three thousand five hundred dollars for this small piece of shit?!" The man's voice cut through the shop like a whip, sharp with disbelief and anger. Agamemnon flinched at the outburst, shrinking back behind the register. His eyes darted away from the man's piercing glare, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He forced himself to maintain a neutral expression, not wanting to provoke the customer further. The man left the small blue-and-white ornamental vase on the counter with a huff and stormed out of the store, muttering angrily under his breath. The door slammed shut behind him, rattling the glass panes, and Aggy let out a long, relieved sigh as the tension in the room slowly dissipated.
"If you weren't going to buy the vase, the least you could do is put it back," Aggy muttered under his breath, his voice carrying through the now silent and empty shop.
The vase shop, nestled on the corner of a bustling street, was a quaint yet unassuming presence among the larger, more modern establishments. Two large windows framed the entrance, offering passersby a glimpse of the treasures within. A small, distressed sign and an equally worn awning hung above the door, giving the shop a certain old-world charm that was easy to overlook in the city's fast-paced environment. Inside, the space was cozy—almost cramped—but there was a methodical order to the apparent chaos. Shelves lined every wall, each one brimming with vases of every imaginable shape and size.
Tall, slender vases stretched gracefully toward the ceiling, their surfaces adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to dance in the soft, ambient light. Beside them sat squat, round vessels with smooth exteriors painted in deep, rich hues that absorbed the light, giving them a mysterious allure. On the counter, a cluster of tiny, delicate vases in pastel shades was arranged like a bouquet of flowers, each one a miniature masterpiece.
Aggy picked up the abandoned vase, his fingers tracing the cool, smooth surface as he slowly made his way through the shop. He found its place on the shelf, carefully aligning it with the others before pulling a rag from his back pocket. As he polished the vase, he muttered under his breath, "Motherfuckers and their dirty-ass hands. Like, what were they eating?"
"Language, young man," came a familiar voice from behind him.
Aggy stiffened slightly, recognizing the voice immediately. Kothar-wa, the shop's elderly owner, shuffled into the room from the open back door that led to the storeroom and workshop. Ko-ko, as Aggy had come to call him, was a tiny man with tanned skin that had weathered the years gracefully. He always moved with deliberate slowness, his pink robe with bunny patterns swaying gently with each step. The old man's eccentricities were well-known to Aggy, and over the years, he had come to appreciate the quirks that made Ko-ko so unique. Among these quirks was the fact that, despite owning the shop for decades—possibly even before the war—Ko-ko hadn't sold a single vase since opening.
But this wasn't due to a lack of craftsmanship. In fact, Ko-ko's work was renowned throughout the city for its beauty and artistry. The problem lay in the pricing. Ko-ko always set his vases at exorbitant amounts, insisting, "Real art has no price limit." He would often declare that "if they were true lovers of fine craftsmanship, those cheapskates would fork up the cash."
Ko-ko approached Aggy, lifting his thin bamboo cane. With a grin that belied his supposed seriousness, he gave Aggy what was intended to be a stern whack on the head. The cane, however, landed with the force of a toddler throwing a cotton ball. Aggy didn't flinch, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ko-ko's reprimands had become a ritual between them, a quirky display of the old man's affection.
"You know, we're never gonna sell any vases if you always price your work so high," Aggy said with a playful smile, rubbing the back of his head where the cane had tapped him. "I don't even know how you can afford to pay me, especially when I owe you 90 million dollars," he added, his voice faltering slightly as the weight of his debt to Ko-ko pressed down on him.
Ko-ko's eyes twinkled with amusement as he regarded Aggy, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Ah, my boy," he said, waving his cane dismissively in the air. "It's not about the money. It's about art. The craftsmanship. And as for that 90 million..." He leaned in closer, his smile widening into something almost mischievous. "We'll see if you can work that off in this lifetime."
Aggy laughed, the tension from before dissipating. "At this rate, I'll be here forever."
"And would that be such a bad thing?" Ko-ko asked with a knowing grin as he continued to shuffle through the store. "You seem to have a knack for craftsmanship."
Through the years of working in the small shop, Aggy had indeed learned many different disciplines of art, with pottery being one of his favorites. He couldn't quite explain his natural talent for it. It was as if he could see and feel what he wanted to create before his hands even touched the clay. His fingers would move instinctively, shaping the material as if guided by an unseen force. Priming a canvas, stoking the kiln—it all came to him like steps to a beautiful waltz, a rhythm he couldn't resist. When he was creating, he felt a profound sense of peace, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. It was during those moments that he felt truly free.
He had come to have a deep love for the arts, and a deep respect for the man who had taught him so much, Kothar-wa.
Aggy scratched his head, feeling a flush of embarrassment. "It's only thanks to you being a great teacher."
Ko-ko waved off the compliment with a dismissive gesture. "Nonsense, my boy. You have a gift, a love for the craft. One I haven't seen since my more spry years."
The two sat in each other's company, enjoying the quiet camaraderie that had developed between them over the years. As time passed and the sun dipped below the horizon, the shadow of the portal cast an eerie glow over the city. The nocturnal residents began to wake, and the city's nightlife started to pulse with a rhythm that seemed almost alive.
Aggy grabbed his bag from the small cubby behind the counter and called out to Ko-ko, "I'm headed home!"
"Get home safe, my boy. Tell Nala I said hello," Ko-ko's voice echoed softly from the back of the shop over the sound of a potter's wheel. As Aggy stepped out onto the bustling city streets his eyes scanned the river of people and entered the busy flow, with practiced steps he walked in step with the crowd.