Love in an Antique Mall

She put on her comfortable jeans, a warm sweater and her favorite boots. She was taking herself out for an afternoon in one of her favorite places on this day of love. The restaurants were packed, the movies were full of people paired up for dates. She ran a brush through her hair, set it down then switched off the light. It was just after noon. She walked to the kitchen and retrieved a piece of leftover pizza. She chomped on it, looking out the window. The snow had lingered on the ground but the sun was shining, making it glitter, adding a little magic to the day. She could hear the slow trickle of water making its way down the drain pipes on the edges of her apartment building. She began to bob her head to one of her favorite songs as she chewed on the last part of the crust, ripping it with her teeth with a satisfying pull that she loved, working her jaw and waking up her teeth. She had slept in and had gone for a run to treat herself. The pizza was delicious, even left over, but she vowed to spend a little money on herself that afternoon. She was seeking inspiration for her drawings or paintings, a favorite hobby. She always found things to inspire her in this special place. That was free. But she wanted to find a new lamp. Hers had broken and the overhead light was harsh. She liked a softer glow while she was sitting and reading or enjoying her morning coffee. She brushed her hands on her jeans and turned around, heading for the door. She was going to make the most of the day.

He woke early, sighing. He had wanted to sleep in but he found this impossible. The sun was up and he was up. He had decided he would make himself breakfast, which he had bought groceries for yesterday. Eggs, hashbrowns and bacon sizzled in the skillets. He had also picked up bread from the local bakery as something special, refusing to succumb to the stereotype of the day but also giving in slightly to focus on himself. He sat on his barstool in the kitchen, looking down at the book he was reading, taking bites in between passages. This was good. It was nearing eight o’clock and the sky was losing its pink glow, giving way to the yellow stream of sunlight through the trees. He listened for the train to come through at eight. He could detect the hum and started to feel the rumble. Then he heard the blare of the horn as it approached the back of his property line. Everyone asked how he could live next to the train tracks. He had grown to find the natural rhythm of the approach, the passing by and the descent as somewhat comforting. It was a sound that signaled being at home. And it was part of his life. Plus the small home had been his only option to buy and he wanted to be a homeowner. He had taken great pride in this accomplishment after years of work, saving his money, and every little thing he owned made him feel like he was growing, leaving the past behind. It was still early so he put in a load of laundry, took a shower, got dressed and cleaned up the dishes, placing them in the drying rack. This timed perfectly with the end of the laundry cycle so he could put everything in the dryer before he went out for the day. He had read about a place he wanted to check out to see if there would be something to add to his living room. He didn’t know what he was looking for but he thought he might know it when he saw it.

Ember Antique Mall sat just off the highway, up on a hill. It was a favorite spot for locals for unique, historic, collectible and creative wares. Their large outdoor area was known for its statues and metal artwork along with a group of cats that had taken up residence in and around the building. The owners and staff took care of them, welcoming their presence on the property as protectors and symbols of good luck. The visitors enjoyed their friendly demeanor and were often seen photographing their curious positions.

She parked her car and walked toward the building, greeting each cat with enthusiasm and admiring the new additions to the outdoor garden. She loved that the closer she looked, the more she would see. She just had to slow down and focus. This continued inside as well. She pulled open the door and was welcomed in by an employee. She smiled, looking down the first aisle. The whole place had high walls, allowing the person browsing to stay focused on the immediate area. Her afternoon to herself had begun. She started with the third booth, which contained a curated collection of bird themed items. She liked birds. This was one of her favorite vendors. She noticed several new pieces for sale. The consignor had been busy treasure hunting! She was grateful for the people that rearranged their stalls frequently and refreshed the contents. Since she visited frequently, it was nice to see things change. Although she found that depending on her mood, she would always notice different things regardless. It was kind of like re-reading a book or re-watching a movie, you took the words and meaning that resonated with you most in that moment of your life. An antique mall gave the same sort of opportunity. She exited the bird booth and continued along, weaving in and out of the furniture and admiring the artwork. A lamp, she thought to herself. Reminding herself why she was there.

He had already been there an hour, getting caught up flipping through the books and records. His hobbies were not expensive and most could be satisfied in second hand stores which worked well for his budget. He found the time spent getting caught up in places like this really did wonders for clearing his head and relaxing his body. He had nowhere to be and no one to meet, so he could take as long as he wanted. This felt satisfying. He had picked up a set of book ends and had put them back. They weren’t quite right. And he didn’t really need them. He had to choose a new piece carefully and with mindfulness of the cost. But he did want to leave there with something. He stopped at a stall with boxes of postcards, arranged by town, state or country. He hadn’t traveled much but wanted to. The idea of people sending back a note about something they did or saw at the beginning of their trip so that it would arrive while they were gone intrigued him. In this day and age of sending a text or an email or even a photo to be received immediately allowed people to essentially share everything about their adventure. With a postcard, you had to carefully choose the image and the words that would fit on the back. He liked to flip through the postcards, reading the messages and imagining a story behind the sender and the recipient. This inspired his writing, another hobby which he particularly liked since it was free.

She turned into the center aisle, stopping at a sign that read I hope your day is as nice as your butt. She laughed out loud.

He heard a laugh on the other side of the wall. He looked up from the postcard he was reading.

She saw one of the store cats walking toward her. “Oh hey, you.” She knelt down. It rubbed up against her outstretched hand. “Looking for some love?”

He thought for a moment that the voice was speaking to him. He liked the sound of the voice asking the question.

She stood up and moved to the next booth. That’s when she saw it. A lamp. It was a Tiffany style with a swallow on the shade. It was perfect. She went over to inspect it. She wanted to be sure it worked. She gently lifted it and it moved but then stopped. The cord was caught. “Dang it.” She said.

He heard the voice again. He replaced the postcard in the display and walked slowly, taking in the collection of items in the next stall.

She got down on her hands and knees and tried to locate the spot where the cord was caught. She certainly didn’t want to pull it and have a bunch of fragile things come crashing down. Following the cord down, it was wound around the table leg but the end of the cord disappeared underneath the divider wall. She pulled gently on the cord. It was really stuck.

He looked down and saw the end of a cord moving below the back wall. Then he saw a hand come through trying to pry it free. “Want some help?” He spoke to the hand.

“Yes! Yes please. Can you see the end?”

“I’ve got it. One second.” He knelt down, turned the end of the cord and gently pushed it through.

“Ah! Thanks. That’s it!”

“No problem.” He replied.

She unwound the cord from around the table leg and lifted the lamp from the table. Flipping the tag over, she saw the price and was comfortable it. She wanted to find an outlet to plug it in. She walked quickly back to the end of the aisle and around the corner where she saw another lamp shining brightly.

He turned around and saw a woman with a lamp. He walked toward her, understanding she was trying to plug it in to test it. He saw she had a firm grip on the lamp and didn’t seem to want to put it down but also needed to get the other lamp unplugged.

She did this when she found something she thought was perfect. She held onto it fiercely, putting her energy into it and welcoming it into her life. She was so excited.

He walked toward her, bent over casually and pulled the other lamp’s cord from its socket. Was he coming across as nice or creepy? He didn’t know.

She was appreciative of the gesture but could have done it herself. As she plugged it in and turned the switch, a warm glow illuminated…

…her face. He noticed her bright smile. She was so happy. He assumed she had found what she was looking for.

She looked up at him with a huge grin. “Thank you.”

He pointed at the lamp. “The bird is a swallow. People often believe it protects you in travels.” He smiled.

She liked that he knew about birds. She took him in quickly, his hands in his jean pockets, work boots, plaid shirt with his jacket slung through his arm. She released her hand from the lamp and outstretched it. “Amanda. I don’t travel much.” She said.

He looked at her hand and shifted his coat to his other arm. He reached out and clasped her hand, looking her in the eye. “Daniel. Me either.” They laighed. He paused. “But I was just reading the postcards over there. Kind of an armchair way to travel. The notes on the back can be entertaining.”

She unplugged her lamp then plugged the other one back in and stood up. “Postcards, huh?”

He gestured to a few booths down. “Yep.”

She bit her lip. “One sec.” She walked with the lamp up to the register. “Would you hold this for me?” She asked the cashier. The woman nodded and she turned around to look at him. He was still standing there. His energy was calm. Oh why not, she thought to herself. She walked back over to him. “I’m ready to travel. Show me.”

The next half hour or so was spent flipping through the postcards, trading them with one another. One was from a woman who was traveling with a group abroad and had met a man named Frank. Another was from a young girl that had started ‘chain letters’ with postcards, bragging that she had ninety nine and hoped the recipient would send one back so she would have one hundred. A longer one was from a sailor that had stopped in port in The Azores and sent a postcard back to his parents, telling them of some of his adventures on the high seas.

They talked in between sharing postcards. They both seemed to have taken inspiration from them. The old fashioned nature of communication was refreshing. And it had been a nice ice breaker for meeting someone new.

She shifted focus and told him she wanted to get her new lamp back home.

He said had already been there for a couple of hours so he was ready to go too.

They walked up to the front of the store. She paid for her lamp and he held the door open for her.

They stepped outside, walking in stride with one another.

“You know, the swallow is also a sign of spring.” She held up her lamp. "I’m ready for it.”

“I don’t know.” He replied. “The cold air can be," he shrugged his shoulders, "invigorating.”

Just then a cat slinked over and wove its way in and out of his legs. He bent down and pet it on the head.

She stopped, admiring this gesture. “Um.” She looked down at her feet, “This might be a silly idea. But do you want to maybe exchange addresses?”

He looked at her a little puzzled. Wouldn’t they exchange phone numbers?

She acknowledged the confusion. “Ah. I thought maybe we could start something,” She paused, “with postcards.” She bit her lip again.

He thought this was adorable. “Postcards, huh?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Why not?”

He couldn’t think of a single reason.

“So,” She looked hopeful, “do you think it is a good idea?”

He smiled and nodded. “I do.”