Trinket-Box

Being an antique dealer's assistant- such a honor! There's nothing more enchanting than sitting behind a desk in the corner of a shop that smells of mothballs and book glue. Oh, the enthralling joy.
Escape is infeasible.
What's more, the old crone that runs the shop is about as stable as a Jenga tower. Clancy can't help but feel obligated to give a hand in running the place, especially considering the fact that his two identical siblings (and his father) came to their conclusion of "She was better off being abandoned than helped,"- and that was a direct quote.
He should've gotten that degree in business after all.
It was a chilled spring when things began, ever-so-gradually, turning around- but for better or worse would require a madman's opinion.
Meaning, no-one with two cents' worth of sense would expect the local beggar to have anything of much value, except perhaps for laundry coupons or socks given to him by a sympathetic soul....But there he went, and clattered what looked to be, at the time, an old wooden trinket-box onto Clancy's counter. No explanation. No imploring for an exchange. Not more than eight words were offered from the old man's cracked-tooth grin.
"I stole this. Now it's yours. Better run."

_________________________________________

________
Check the Author's Notation for some information on what the content holds in the terms of young eyes.
Written by Kelsey Elizabeth Linton.