Small antique shops were always a mixed bag. Sometimes you’d walk in and it’d all be stuff even the most tasteless of grandmas wouldn’t want. Other times, there’d be curiosities from floor to ceiling. Usually, they were somewhere in the middle. The one Nic found himself in today, on a street a few blocks away from the center of town, had been mostly the former but just as he was about to give up, a small painting tucked away in a dusty corner caught his eyes. He didn’t recognize the signature in the corner but whoever had created it clearly had talent. “Nice, isn’t it?” he asked, hearing footsteps behind him.












