Date: 7/5/2019
By Fitful
I was often at this antique shop. Actually it was a lot of junk and antiques. I think my grandmother owned it. I don't think I I was always supposed to be there, like I was always rejected or chased out or she'd drop me at the drop of a hat. I did borrow things when I was there but I always gave them back. Or I paid for something and kept it. Maybe. I think occasionally I used to steal stuff, when I was younger, and I still had some of the stuff I stole. Anywya I wasn't well treated. The years when she'd tutor me I learned a lot, my mind and skill building up in spades, but she felt I was very unintelligent and often told me so beratingly. She would teach me once then refuse to teach me again for years stating I was too dumb and didn't learn anything. Those years without a tutor I didn't learn anything, didn't grow, didn't even grow up. I just tooled around doign what I always did. Occasionally I spoke with a security guard who came online when she came to work. We messaged on this chat board which over saw the shop. She would comment on what I was buying or looking at or something. But the chat board gave you a certain ammount of time to reply, three or five minutes, if you didn't reply and keep the conversation going in that time it erased the whole conversation thread. It was useful as it kept the board cleared, but irritated when I wanted to message her again. My grandmother bothered me in the middle of the night when I was calm and quiet in the shop. She wanted the wallet I had borrowed, some female had snitched on me. It was my grandmother's favorite wallet, but it was mine too as it was so Gothic and black. So I had to get up to look for the wallet all over and I missed messaging the girl back. I turned out the wallet was right there on the stove and the woman who snitched had know it all alone. (That woman resembled my mother but acted like a jealous aunt or sister, her arms were often crossed and she sneered at me like she smelled something bad.) I couldn't recall the security guards username to message back directly. I felt sad. There was a coffin shaped skateboard in the shop which I coveted. But it was too expensive and my grandmother refused to give it to me or even met me use it. I only snuck and used cheap junk in the middle of the night, because it was all I could imagine getting away with, all I thought I deserved. There was a habit of magicians popping into the antique shop. They used a card and a spell which translocated them across massive distance and came out right in front the stop. Then they'd come in and peruse. I watched one, one night. He came in and was suspicious so I hid. Another came in an looked like a large entrely sapia in color ceramic gnome. He then got shrunk by something or someone in the shop and turned very tiny. Then he got turned into a million of himself all tiny little sapia gnomes. They were very happy together, being so small was who they really were. They were no longer bullied for their looks. They grew even smaller and resembled flat square Lego pieces, each one connecting to two others on two sides. The colors were tow toned and you had to match them when you put them all together. There was a woman I ran into who lived nearby. She often was at the shop but I always encountered her at her home. It was a nice home, lots of rich belongings and a rich home. Upper class old Victoriam home with furniture my Nana would have admired, all mahogany and perfect condition. The woman had lost her job and lived off the government income, but she only felt bad a little. She just needed a little help, she said, and then she'd get a job and get back on her feet. It happened to everyone, even the rich. I thought she was like me occasionally because she liked things I liked in the shop. Finally one day when I countered her again in her house I asked her name. I'd asked before and she always gave the same response, a fake name. I called her out on it this time, told her it wasn't her name and I didn't need her ssn but a first name, a real name would do. I wanted to see if I wanted to get to know her. But she was warped and suspicious of everyone, maybe a bit not all there. Sadly, and maybe gratefully, I let it go. There were dogs in the shop. Pretty big dogs. Bull dogs. So adorable. I think one was pregnant. I often played on the floor with them and they smothered me. They loved me, trusted me it was clear the way they lay their heads near my feet when I was standing. They trusted me. I felt gratitude as no one else did. No one else even liked me. I supposed I was a bit unlikable, or I had been when younger. I was better now but no one gave me a chance anymore. The woman who gave the false name, I suppose it was better we weren't friends. I had stolen her shirt when I was younger. I still had it, a Halloween hello kitty t shirt. It was in my apartment that I never was at. I would have had to own up to stealing it if we became good friends so it was better this way.