Serendipity and Scotch

tinajordan (56)in #writing • 7 years ago

With an urgent determination to remove myself from the gusting
Late winter air, I slip inside the door at 229 W. Murrow Street.
I bother not to look at the sign, as any place that offers refuge
From the cold will suffice; my hands and feet are close to numb.
The store is cluttered and narrow, but appears to extend back
Much further than what is seemingly possible by first glance.
There are oil lamps burning on the counter and windowsill, and
A single bulb dangling from the center of the front room is casting
A slight glow on the dust-laden shelves and polished display cases.
I hear the rustle of the shopkeeper somewhere to my right, and
I call out in greeting as I make my way down the second aisle.
In reply, a portly man rounds the corner with an almost comical
"Hello" and a smile that nudges his glasses to the tip of his wide nose.
I try in earnest not to stare at the mismatched combination of his
Butter-colored poplin shirt and fading cerulean Aran knit vest.
When he offers his assistance beneath a discreetly deliberative
Assessment of me, I insist that I have simply stopped in to browse.
I swear that there is a hint of delectation in his eyes as he tells me
To be sure not to miss the collection to the left of the back stairway.
Rubbing my bare hands together in an effort to dismiss the lingering
Chill, I turn and step on creaking floorboards as I brush past a row of
Vividly clad mannequins and a petite mountain of assorted iron castings.
My toe hangs on the protruding tip of an anchor; and as I double in
Silent pain, I lock gazes with a wild boar who is permanently preserved
And pompously decorated with silk flowers and layers of Tahitian pearls.
I rearrange my stance and occupy a set of moments perusing ancient
Coins and broken bits of pottery arranged to form a rune-like shape.
The sound of the old fellow's humming begins to interfuse with the
Dainty chimes of the gold-trimmed music box I am studying with awe.
I replace the heirloom in its rightful spot, continuing towards the back.
I spy the case there, inconspicuous and dimly-lit, almost occluded from
The shoddy grandeur that accentuates the whole of this curious shop.
I kneel down, letting my skirt and coat suffice as padding between my
Knees and the hardness of the floor, to gain a more advantageous view.
A shocking discovery lying in wait behind the sliding glass door of the
Cabinet has me momentarily hypnotized as I question my own reality.
Carved from the crevice of a dream, a perfectly finessed rendering of
Green chalcedony and sparkling rubies rests before my unbelieving eyes.
I feel a slight pressure upon my shoulder and slowly look upward to the
Assuring grin of the shopkeeper and the glass of whiskey he extends.