Austin was very optimistic now, hoping this guy was everything he built himself up to be. He was daring to think of some of the rarer finds when the owner interrupted his thoughts. “Say, if I remember correctly, your friend was getting it for your birthday wasn’t she?” “Yes that’s correct. Just turned 27.” The old man chuckled. “I remember 27, long ago as it was. Are you married?” To that, Austin let out a chuckle. “No sir, can’t say that I see that on the horizon either.” “Aw now!” the old man casually jeered at him. “27 is a prime age for a man to be married and raising a family. Does a man good to take on that responsibility! You can’t stay a bachelor too long, I don’t care what people do nowadays.” A little annoyed by the old man’s classic views, Austin had to force himself to remember this was an elderly man. The world was different back then. “Well old timer, I’m afraid I’ve got you beat there. I don’t plan on having any kids.”

With that the old man stopped and turned around, a frustration to Austin considering they were about to enter the back room. Maybe he was offended by my “old timer” remark, Austin thought as he started to apologize. Before he could say anything however, the old man said, “Now that just can’t be! Raising children brings out the best in good, true men. I’ve been around a long time, and I’m good at reading people. You seem like a good, true man. At least it looks like you could be if you decided to put your mind to it!” Austin was a little conflicted, complimented by the fact he had apparently won this man’s judging contest, but agitated further at his assertion he wasn’t yet a real man in the same sentence. “Tell you what. I’ve got a great record in here for you. If you end up buying any of them, I’ll give it to you for free.” With that he turned and opened up the back room, leading Austin inside.

The back room was very much like the front, only more disorganized. Meandering through the junk, they finally ended up at a table with boxes and boxes of old records. Austin began flipping through one of them, putting what the old man had said out of his mind. Likewise, the owner too was flipping through, searching for his giveaway record. “Wow you weren’t kidding, this is quite a collection,” Austin complimented, the excitement barely contained in his voice. “Yep. Great classic rock and Jazz collection. Ah, here it is.” In a faded casing, the owner pulled out a dusty record. Blowing it off, he handed it over to Austin. “Frank Sinatra?” Austin said. The tone of voice suggested it wasn’t his type of music, but for free he’d take it. “Now that’s a real man’s music. You go ahead and pick out anything else you want, that one’s on the house.”

Eventually Austin decided he had his fill, scooping up a full dozen albums when he realized how cheap they were. This guy clearly didn’t put any of his stuff online, or else he’d move it in a hurry. He had taken so long the owner had wandered off to do whatever it was he did all day in this store. It certainly didn’t appear to be dusting. Records under his arm, Austin decided to quickly scan the back room before heading back up front. He reached the back corner and started to turn around when a faded wooden door caught his eye, a faint light coming from the opening crack. Working his way over to it, he slowly pulled back to see inside.

It was a small room, lit with a dim light bulb hanging overhead. The first thing Austin noticed was a sewing machine against the far wall. It was old, with signs of a long career of use. Then he saw a box of fabric and white stuffing against the wall. To the other side, a small table with a collection of wonderfully crafted dolls, some clothed and ready, others naked and unfinished. Finally, there was a shelf overhead. On it rested an old, old wooden box. The markings were faded and seemed to come in that old 1800s style press, solid black. The apparent label was in German, or maybe Dutch. He couldn’t read it, whatever it was. But it wasn’t that which attracted him. A strange bit of light seemed to come from under the crack in its sliding top, almost a glow. What could possibly make that that would be back here? Austin took a step inside the cramped room and raised his hand towards the box.

“What are you doing back here!?” the old man came out of nowhere behind him. Startled, Austin spun around, his curiosity snapped. “I’m ah sorry,” he stammered before the old man cut him off. “Those aren’t meant for you, and this is a private room!” “Right,” Austin said, moving quickly past the old man. He had barely cleared the way when the owner slammed the door shut. He shot Austin a nasty look before escorting him to the front register.

Austin was overcome with awkwardness at the encounter and placed his records on the counter. The old man seemed to have calmed down as he began to ring him up, however. “Sorry I yelled back there, but I don’t allow customers in my workshop.” “No problem,” Austin said flatly. He just wanted to pay for everything and be on his way. As he put them in a bag, the old man said, “Remember what I said now about being a responsible man. It brings out the best in you!” To that Austin gave a polite smile as he took his purchase and threw on his jacket.

The little bell rang behind him as he stepped through the door and into the snow. He turned to walk back towards the subway when he remembered another thing he wanted to do before he went back home. Pulling out his phone he punched in the contact and held it up to his ear. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “I just checked out that little antique shop. They had a better selection than I ever imagined!…haha yes, well that’s all on you…well listen since I’m right by your place do you mind if I come up? We can get some dinner or something tonight…yeah…great, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” With that Austin turned around to make the short walk to Lula’s.