The bell gave a soft jangle as the door opened with a slight creak, and stood inside the shop was an old woman who carried a gentle countenance made more soothing by her kind smile. There was an air of calm mystery permeating the shop, and the old woman found herself feeling both curious and pleasantly intrigued. Upon her quick first glance around the shop, an unshakable sense of familiarity instantly struck her as she took in everything before her, including the furniture, books, ornaments, accessories and various other things displayed in no particular order. She also found herself drawn to the framed pictures hanging on both sides of the walls, although they appeared hazy from her vantage point at the door.


    Before she could take a step further to investigate, a voice appeared seemingly out of the blue.


    “Welcome, my dear.”


    She followed the direction of the voice and saw a man smartly clad in a brown plaid vest overlying a clean button-up shirt, coupled with a matching pair of brown plaid trousers. His grey hair and moustache were well-kempt, and he wore round spectacles over his greyish green eyes that glinted with expectation. He stood behind a glass cabinet situated on the right side of the shop, and the woman wondered at how she could have missed him when she entered the building, or whether he had stealthily walked there while her mind was preoccupied with an ineffable feeling of déjà vu ever since she laid eyes on the shop’s interiors.


    The old woman approached the man and to her own surprise, the first question she blurted out was “Have I been here before?”


    Not only did the man appear unfazed by the question, he greeted it with a smile, “Take a closer look around you, and I believe you’ll find your answer.”


    Before she could utter another word, her eyes fell upon one of the pictures hanging behind the man. Maybe she simply didn’t pay attention to it before whilst conversing with the man, or perhaps, as if coming to life, what at first seemed like a somber concoction of colors began to morph into a vivid painting of a vivacious young girl with bright red hair.


    “That’s me!” The woman gasped with her eyes fixed onto the young girl in the picture. “Where did you get this painting?”


    “Look around you, my dear,” The man replied with a studied softness in his voice, taking care not to put the woman in unease.


    The woman turned around and once again absorbed the room surrounding her, this time seeking to demystify the oddly familiar environment. In a matter of seconds, her eyes sparkled with a shine of blue as they opened wider, and she could not help but reflexively put her hand over her mouth in excitement.


    “Everything here is things that I’ve owned!” The woman’s gaze travelled from the abundant trinkets and books, to the couple of vermillion one-person sofas with a reading table in between them and the forest green couch sitting at the back, to the hanged pictures that told stories of the old woman’s life spent with loved ones.


    The woman faced the man again, who was still standing behind the glass cabinet. The man shot a look down at the cabinet, indicating to it, which the woman’s gaze followed. Looking down, she saw diaries, journals and letters that she had written all her life exhibited so meticulously, they could easily impress as irreplaceable antiquities worth more than all the money in the world.


    “This is a dream, isn’t it?”


    The man walked around the glass cabinet to stand closer to the woman as he explained, “You are asleep at this moment, that is correct.” He then proceeded, “However dreams are a gateway between your subconscious and consciousness. They can be ostensibly arbitrary, but they often carry subtle messages for the waking mind to decode. Simply put, dreams are a form of communication between the layers of one’s mind.”


    The man continued, “Where you are now is not exactly a dream. Your mind works just as how your conscious mind would function in reality, and your subconscious is currently in repose, storing dreams away. This shop is more of a realm of memories, or rather, a visit to your own self, and I am its navigator.”


    For a few moments the woman remained silent. Then she started to walk towards one of the tables, where she picked up a blue flower brooch and remarked, “I remember when my late husband gifted me this, he said it was the color of my eyes.” Gently putting it back down, she moved towards the red sofas, “How many peaceful nights we spent here reading whilst enjoying a cup of tea by the fireplace, and how we would exchange thoughts on the books we had read.” Looking up at the pictures, a reminiscent expression filled her face and she turned back to the previous painting hanging behind where the man stood before. “I knew my husband ever since we were children, and he was always quite the artist. He made that painting of me on one of our very first romantic trysts.”


    “It’s a very beautiful painting indeed.” The man replied.


    The woman approached the green couch and sat down. She bore a brief look of contemplation before she began, “My husband left the world six months ago, and ever since his passing I can feel my strength gradually evading me.”


    The woman lowered her head for a sigh before lifting it back up, her brows furrowed her forehead but her lips curved into a demure smile, “I’m dying, aren’t I?”If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The man sat down beside her and mustered a gentle tone, “That is not my place to answer, I’m afraid.” He then ventured into levity, “I’m not the Grim Reaper.”


    The woman responded with her own good-hearted humor, “You certainly don’t dress like one.”


    They both shared a chuckle before the man added, “I am here to present to you your fondest memories, and this shop is a reflection of the life you’ve had. You have filled this shop with so many precious things that you treasure, and from the pictures it looks like you have plenty of love to give to people and they to you.”


    “My late husband and I never had any children of our own, but we were always blessed with kind and generous company from our families, neighbors and friends.”


    “I’m sure one of the reasons for that is due to your munificent and genuine nature. As I mentioned before, this shop reflects who you are, and haven’t you noticed that everything here appears to be as good as new, despite the fact that most of them are old belongings of yours? No worn-out surfaces, no discernible fading in colors from the pictures and paintings, and even the ink in your diaries and letters appear fresh and un-smudged by time. This room shines because your heart shines, because you cherish even the smallest joys in life. You love and are loved. You give and share because your kindness is limitless. You are a spark from the sky.”


    “You flatter me very much, kind sir. I am not too sure if I deserve all of that praise.” The woman could almost feel a warmth suffusing her cheeks from blushing.


    “I should thank you for endowing the shop this bright ambience. I do not control the shop, it is the shop which shows people for who they are, and I am merely its servant to guide people through their inner selves. In your case, I don’t have much to contribute aside from letting you know that you’ve done wonderfully, dear Lily.”


    “Is this a kind of judgement of all the doings in my life? Weighing my good deeds versus my sins, as they say will come to all of us in the afterlife?”


    “My dear, this isn’t the afterlife, and I am not a judge.” The man answered.


    “What a life I’ve lived. I do feel fortunate.” The woman put on an abstracted look as she recalled bits and pieces of her life, and despite her attempt at sounding grateful, her words must have carried a tinge of melancholy as the man asked, “But there is still something your heart craves for. Tell me what’s on your mind.”


    “I thought you possessed all the knowledge regarding the inner workings of those who walked in here.”


    “I could make a conjecture, and an accurate one at that. However, I always find that it brings more insight to oneself when people answer their own questions or reveal their own thoughts, rather than letting others tell them who they are or what they desire, not to mention the dependence on others for answers about yourself sometimes may cast a veil over your most innate needs and wants.”


    The woman mulled that over for a brief moment, before she placed both her hands on her chest, “I appreciate the beauty that comes with age, how easier it is to let the past go and remain in the present when you realize that the time you have is short, and one only tends to reach that realization when they see the wrinkles that corrugate their skin or when they feel their health waning. Some people might lament their old age, but I on the other hand, relish the simplicity and peace that old age offers. Still……” The woman paused for a second, “I cannot resist the fantasy of being young again, to be able to dance and flow like water, to move with ease like a breeze.”


    “You were a dancer, were you not?”


    “I was. Dancing was my love. It made me feel alive.” The woman sighed, “Now with these weak knees and ankles, I’ve only had short and simple steps in my dances with my late husband over the last few decades, but I do miss being able to feel light on my feet on the dancefloor like I once did.”


    The man stood up from the couch and held out a hand, “Come with me, my dear.”


    The old woman took the man’s hand and followed him to a door at the back, through which she entered a room where there were a three-way mirror and a dress hanging on a clothes rack. It was a stunning pink dress made of voluminous fabric with frills, decorated with bows and butterflies. Sitting under the clothes rack was a pair of dancing shoes made with the most gorgeous red.


    “Why don’t you try them on?” The man handed the dress and shoes to the woman and gestured her to a dressing room.


    “My, an old woman like me shouldn’t be wearing things like that,” The woman laughed.


    “Trust me, Lily.” The man winked at her.


    The woman did as the man suggested, but not without some subdued embarrassment.


    When the woman came out of the dressing room, she couldn’t conceal her embarrassment and kept her head down. “I must look silly.”


    “Why don’t you take a look in the mirror?”


    Turning her head upwards, the woman was astounded by what she saw in the mirror. Instead of an elderly woman, standing before her in the mirror was a young lady, similar to the one in the painting. The folds in her skin vanished and auburn colored her hair.


    “I’m young again!”


    “You look absolutely resplendent.” The man complimented. “There is one more thing I need to show you.” He guided Lily to another door that seemingly materialized without her noticing. What she saw after opening the door was a majestic ballroom whose walls were gilded with gold and floors made of marble. Grand chandeliers suspended from the ceiling and roses adorned the ballroom.


    Advancing into the ballroom as she marveled at its grandeur, Lily turned when she heard behind her, “Shall I have this dance?”. Instead of the man in the plaid clothes, standing behind her was a dashing young gentleman with slick dark hair and sharp features, wearing a handsome black suit, but she knew he was the same man from the shop as she recognized his voice and the greyish green in his eyes.


    Orchestral music filled the room as Lily began a waltz with the man. She could feel the lightness returning to her feet, and youthful grace embraced her movements. It was as if she embodied a soft wind dancing on a cloud. A surreal bliss overcame her and she let out a cheerful laughter as she moved across the dancefloor with her charming partner.


    Soon the music ended with the first waltz. “I never thought I would ever have the chance to feel so alive again.” There was a thin stream of tears lining the edge of Lily’s eyes, which only made her blue eyes gleam like pristine rivers. “I know I don’t have many more nights left in me. I can feel it in my bones for a while now. My time will come soon, and I have made my peace with that. I suppose what I really want to say is thank you. Thank you for this wonderful gift. I promise I won’t forget about this when I am awake.”


    The gentleman extended his hand, “Before that time comes, shall we keep on dancing?”


    Lily took his hand without hesitation, “Of course.”


    And the music began again.