~ The Market of Lost Senses ~
"Here you can find what you've lost...
or lose what you thought you'd already found."
C
rash landing.
As soon as you arrive, a voice greets you:
> "Welcome to the Market of Lost Senses™ {MiSs}.
We sell emotions by the pound of soul."
The market floats in the void on a massive suspended rock rows of glowing stalls, vendors from every galaxy,
and customers wandering around with that soft, nostalgic confusion
of those who've felt too much, or too little.
~ What's for sale? ~
Everything you've ever felt, repressed, or forgotten
now neatly bottled, jarred, or stored in shimmering holographic cubes.
Main stalls:
"Regrets on Sale" — 33ml vials, mint & guilt flavor.
"Unborn Loves" — empty bags that weigh a ton.
"Pure Joy (Short-Term Edition)" — absurdly expensive, lasts 3 minutes, no refunds.
"Reconditioned Empathy" — barely used, good as new.
A sign reads:
> "We accept payment in emotional vulnerability or disillusioned sarcasm."
Encounter with Memu, the Itinerant Seller of Self-Awareness
Appearance: part zen barista, part satellite dish.
Tone: speaks as if she knows everything about you — and loves you anyway, despite it.
She offers you a free tasting:
> "Unprocessed Happy Memory – Vintage 2009."
You feel sunlight.
A laugh.
A possibility you didn't take.
You pause —
you ache —
you wonder:
"Is it worth reliving all this?"
Memu smiles.
"It's always worth feeling.
Everything else is avoidance, not evolution."
~ Mini Carousel of Temporary Identity™ ~ {MiG-it42}
A free attraction lets you inhabit, for five minutes, another version of yourself:
• The lighter you.
• The braver you.
• The you who said "no" when it mattered.
When you step off, no one applauds.
But the reflection staring back at you carries a faint new glow.
~ Exit (Mandatory, Not Final) ~
As you leave the market, a vendor hands you a box labeled:
> "Contains what you thought you'd never feel again."
You don't open it.
You don't need to.
You already know what's inside.
And for the first time… that's enough.
~ Cosmic Lesson ~
"Emotions are never truly lost.
They just hide in the places where you stopped looking."