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The streets were caked with ice and therefore made traveling dangerous. I slowed my pace so as to not harm myself. The sound of my jacket rustling and shifting with my body made the night bearable despite my frostbitten hands, which I promptly shoved into my pockets. Since talking was a hassle, I glanced at the many windows of shops through the street and an antique shop caught my eye. Going in the store was easy considering the temperature outside but leaving was a challenge. The store spelled out decay, though somehow elegant, being filled with dust from lack of upkeep, which was no surprise once one noticed the proprietor. However, the air was musky and heavy but warm as if to lull one to sleep. The antique store held many treasures both temporal and captivating.
There stood the object of my affection, the music box I had lost years ago that my grandfather had handcrafted for me. I used to play it to calm me down whenever my parents were having their “discussions”. The melody was high-pitched but soft and smooth. Now the wood lacked luster and the hinges surrendered to rust and age. Even as I lifted the top, a hinge broke as the other creaked. The outside may have gone to ruin but the melody stayed the same, just as I remembered. I noticed from the corner of my eye the proprietor leaning over his desk about to say something. He was rather skinny for a man his age and his appearance seemed to personify the meaning of decrepit. Though his outward appearance showed frailty, his eyes showed something quite opposite. They told me he was perceptive, curious, and sadistic.
“May I help you?” said the proprietor. “Um…yes sir. May I ask how much this music box is?” I responded. The proprietor looked straight into my eyes, “That music box isn’-… How much is it worth to you?” He ruminated this for a moment. “Let’s say I give it to you for a mere sixty dollars?” I assumed he saw the want in my eyes, how much I truly craved it. However, I would not beg. “ I lost the music box, which my grandfather made, when I was but a young girl. Surely, you could lower the price for I haven’t that much to spare.” He paused, almost considering lowering the price but sympathy only lasted for so long. “ I’m sorry but the price shall stay the same…unless you have something of worth to offer?” Now it was I who pondered on what to bargain for a childhood memory. I knew not how to bargain, “What if I give you my jacket?” He laughed. I winced. “Why would I have need of a jacket? Try something more valuable.”
Telling from his laugh, he had many bargains and many profits. I learned the hard way that I have already lost this bargain so I began to bargain what I could and see if he would accept. “What if I gave you my pocket watch?” “You see…I already have a clock.” “What if I agreed to work here for a year?” “One person is enough to sustain this store, after all business is scarce.” “W-w-what if I gave you my leg? Arm? Lung?” “Well… lungs do sell mighty high in the black market and you do seem rather desperate. Fine, I shall be generous and let you off lightly.” “Thank you kind sir.” He left the room in order to fetch paper and ink. “Sign on the dotted line if you would.”
My hands shook as I hesitated to sign the pact we had agreed to. I could turn back and pretend I never saw the music box but it had taken so long to find. In essence, it was the same when I lost it but also the dotted line meant death for a human cannot possibly live long without two lungs. At this point I was beyond reason, despite my doubts, where reality could not touch me and I was far too happy to quit. I signed on the dotted line.