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Bent-over, typical, and hobbling, the patron appeared out the shadows, raised his glasses and eyes off his drooped nose. His stare, despite being glazed over by cataracts, peered right into my gaze; telling me all I wanted to know. The lock clucked and a flash of light from the dimming sun clothed the shop, highlighting. His shuffle and mumble contradicted my stumble and shout; he turned back into the remaining shadows and I followed, demanding still more. The swathe of luster did not last as the door creaked shut and the darkness returned, leaving me there, with swollen curiousity. Books and knick-knacks lined the walls, yet dust was in a greater quantity. What lead me here grew in appearance as my eyes adjusted to the remaining light, and an open book on a lectern collected my focus."
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