The sign was old; some letters had become illegible in the peeling paint. The window was not clean and the artifacts on display were clearly antique and crammed together rather than artistically arranged.
Irish pushed the door as it noisily creaked open and a bell rang as she stepped inside. Small and old and it wasn't the type of antique store she expected. No people and it was silent. The place reeked the smell of old items put together for many years.
Putting down the box she was carrying on the floor, she walked further into the store then something caught her eye. The first an ornate bowl that she knew it was made from the ancient greeks, the paintings hanging on the walls and statues that she can named. The famous painting "scream"; the head statue of queen nefertiti and etc. Almost artifacts are too familiar and yet---
Wait. Are these artifacts in this store are stolen? And those paintings seems to be fabricated? No way! Have I just found the realm of lost artifacts? This might be the best momentum to get back on my career but I don't think there might be someone in here watching these priceless and ancient things.
"Hello there."
Irish almost jump by the sudden voice. She saw a figure. It was an old man dressed in a gray chinese-style garment, with a newspaper in his hand--- and reading. His hair was gunmetal grey and his beard was long and lush and looks ancient, too. As she got nearer to the counter, in one word she could quickly recognize him as one of the Lord of the Ring's characters, Gandalf. The wizard. But without the hat.
"Did you see something that interests you?" He asked without glancing at her. It seems he just know that she was there standing.
She tried to calm herself. She don't want to appear threatening as she knows that his artifacts are all illegally on sale.
"Hi..." she stammered, "I..." she glanced around the shop to see any artifacts that may catch her eye but none seems to be the one and back to the old man. "I was just here to ask if you know---" she was cut off and didn't finish her words.
"You are looking for a love potion." He tilted his head towards Irish and gave her a wink.
Her eyebrow slightly wry, and said, "potion?" She wanted to laught at what he said but refrains to do so. "No, I'm sorry, that's not what I'm looking for."
"Really?"
Funny is he did not sound like an old man and he seems so sure about what I'm looking for. I don't really believe that kind of thing. It's just a myth.
The old man put down his newspapers and paces out from the counter; and moved close towards Irish. He was a tall old man with dark brown eyes and without wrinkles on the face. It's hard to guess his age with his long, lush white beard.
"I bet you will believe if you're going to try, young lady." He then raised his hand and shows a tiny vial with a red liquid in it.
"I don't think it's real."
"Oh, it is real. Go try it. I know someone like you have a dream to get the love you are looking for. This is free."
"Why are you doing this? Are you some kind of a wizard?"
The old man tilted his head and laugh, "how I wish I could be one, but no, I'm just doing this to help. There'll be no harm if you try it."
"O...kay." she breathed as she accepts the vial from the old man.
"I assure you, you will never regret it."
"Never regret, huh."
Just as she put the vial in her jacket's pocket, the bell rang.
