Gemotions

The antique shop, crammed with forgotten treasures, smelled of dust and old paper. The clock on the wall ticked with a slow, deliberate rhythm, a calming presence in the cluttered space. Richard, leaning against a display case, had been here for almost an hour. He wasn't bothered. He had come with an intention to browse without pressure.

When a woman, clearly flustered, burst in, he knew. He'd seen that look before. The same look that he was certain he’d worn in the past. She started to speak, but he held up a hand.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice soft. "We can sort it out." He indicated the woman, clearly as surprised as he was, who was standing a few feet behind her. He gestured towards a comfortable armchair.