You see a jewelry store, alright. Old, dusty, the place where the imagination breeds. And as you push your way through the door, with its wrought-iron designs embedded into the glass, you know that your own fantasies are growing on the fodder lying in every corner.
Everything here has to be faux. No shop would be this dusty and carry diamonds THAT size...or rubies that dark, or...
You could go on forever gorging on these elegant creations, rhinestone encrusted pendants on glittering chains. None of them are plain enough to hold your locket, but you don't want to lose it...it was your father's last gift to you before he...
You shake your head, and you see the shop owner. She's old, as you expected, but there are no fancy shawls or glitter about her. She looks more like a grandmother than an owner of a store like this. You smile at her. She doesn't smile back.
"Why are you here?" She asks.