Louis Donovan (strikethose) wrote in repose, @ 2015-11-10 22:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, daniel webster, louis donovan |
antique store: daniel w/louis d
Who: Daniel and Louis
What: A reunion of sorts!
Where: The Antique Store
When: A little later in the day.
Warnings/Rating: N/A
By the time 2 rolled around, Louis thought he was beginning to get a handle on things. A few customers had come through the shop, which was interesting. It seemed this place remained afloat primarily due to word of mouth in the large city nearby. It was large enough, with enough valuable and high-end stock mingled into the less interesting chaff, that it had become something of a legend there. Worth driving out for, apparently. That was good.
Louis knew a passable amount about antiques, and he fully intended to give himself a crash course in the coming weeks. It wasn't enough to price or buy new stock just yet, but there was apparently a storage space to supplement what was already here. It would be some time before he needed to start buying out whole estates to fill the shelves. Hipsters passed breezily through, cooing over the Newcomb College behind glass in the front room and digging through the piles in the back for mid-century barware and framed art that they could 'shabby chic' up with some trashy paint and a pinterest tutorial.
His lean over the counter with a book was adolescent, but his employee had stepped out for the moment, and someone had to pick up the slack. He didn't intend to work the counter most days, but there was an adjustment period to get through, displays to clean, leaning wainscoting to shore up, and the laundry list of things to do was a welcome distraction from memories of where he'd come from, memories of what he'd come for, worries about how long this insane decision to move into a town in the middle of nowhere could possibly sustain itself before failure.
The shop was empty at this hour, and the day hadn't warmed much as it marched past noon. He turned the page of the old botany volume, mulling locking up for a short lunch, when the soft bell at the door chimed its single chime, then went still.