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On the left, a glass case displayed things that had once been part of larger things: a dragonfly wing cast in resin, a thin slice of star-stone that showed a black stripe when turned, a spoon made from the core of an old wand, a bird skull so clean it looked like a drawing.
On the right, a sofa sat under a painting of a storm. The sofa had seen better days. It had also seen worse days. It had not broken. The painting made the room feel a degree cooler. The storm in it had been stitched with very small thread and a mind that had been annoyed for three months.
The man behind the table did not look up.
