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The latter looked up from her phone to give me a beaming smile. “Good morning!”
“Morning.” I smiled back, awkwardly clutching the two coffee cups as I wandered over to the nearest clothing rail.
“Do you want to leave your drinks on the counter while you look around?”
I gave the store attendant another grateful smile as I approached. “That’d be great, thanks.”
“No problem. Let me know if you need any help.”
“I will. Thanks.”
After setting down the cups, I migrated toward the big wall of random items, which had been organised by category. There were piles of dated crockery sets, a selection of brightly coloured kids’ toys, clusters of glass and ceramic vases, neatly stacked vintage records and Mother Mila Foundation-branded candles with scents like ‘honey-drenched dirt’ and ‘night-blooming jasmine and bergamot’.
I walked slowly along the shelves, stopping when I came to a row of demiurgus-made ornaments and knickknacks. Some of them looked like the ones dotted everywhere in the house—small, brightly coloured pieces of glass that had been expertly twisted together to make unusual shapes.
But tucked right at the back were a few things that looked different. Carefully picking one up, I cradled it gently because it seemed delicate and fragile. It was a clump of what looked like pink oyster mushrooms made of opaque glass, with a jagged cluster of pale blue, milky white and lilac crystals around the base.
I stared at it in fascination, peering closer. It was expertly crafted, the petal-like caps organic in shape, each gill delicate and paper-thin. Spotting a tiny white sticker on the base, I blinked at the price. It was only a few dollars.
It was beautiful and looked so well-made. Sure, it was a little kitsch, but I loved it. And I was going to buy it.
A tiny thrill raced through me as I reached back for the other mushroom-looking ornament on the shelf. Maybe it was silly to be so excited about buying knickknacks, but these would be the first tangible items I’d bought myself—things to keep, not just coffee or food. I could put them on the dresser in my room. I could ask Greid if there were any other thrift stores in the area that might have more. Maybe there were all different kinds.
The other one for sale was a clump of long, tapered stalks with fat bases and domed caps in a vibrant purple. This one had a single shard of pale yellow crystal to steady the base, chunky and striated with white and amber.
I grinned, carrying them over to the register and asking the friendly attendant if I could leave them with my coffee cups while I kept looking around.
When I left the shop twenty minutes later, there was a bulging plastic bag hooked over my arm. I hurried home clutching our lukewarm coffees, and when I got into the house, the first thing I did after shedding my coat and boots was put the cups in the microwave to heat up.
I was pretty sure Greid wasn’t up yet, but I was too excited to show him what I’d bought, so I carried the bag and our coffees to his bedroom door and knocked with my elbow. “Greid?”
I heard the rustle of fabric, followed by his sleep-rough voice calling out, “Come in.”
When I opened the door, I saw no Greid, just an indistinct lump under a mound of blankets on the bed. Then a head of dark, glossy hair popped out before big yellow eyes blinked at me sleepily.
“Beryl, is that you?” he rasped. “I’m fading away.”
I burst out laughing as I made my way over to the bed. He was such a dork. “Shut up, I’m like, half an hour later than normal delivering your coffee.”
“I can’t hear you,” he said, shifting upright to lean back against the headboard as I settled cross-legged on the bed beside him. “The lack of caffeine is shutting off my senses one by one.”
I laughed again, but my insides pulsed with want at the sight of his bare chest. Was he completely naked under there? I forced the thoughts away and handed over his coffee. “I went shopping.”
“Oh yeah?” He popped the lid off and blew on the steaming liquid before taking a sip.
“Yeah, at the thrift store next to the Chinese place we’ve ordered from a few times?” I dragged the bag closer to me. “They have so much cool stuff in there.”
“Oh right, yeah. I know it. Haven’t been in there for a while.”
“I was thinking we could donate your Room of Shame stuff to it.” I shot a pointed glance at the pile of boxes tucked beside his closet door.
Greid coughed awkwardly. “So what did you get?”
Snorting, I reached into the bag. “Some new shirts. A handbag, seeing as I don’t have one. Well, it’s actually an old leather rucksack. Look.”
I pulled it out, admiring the cracked tan leather and thick brass buckles. Greid nodded, reaching out to take it. “Nice. Have you looked inside yet? Sometimes people leave cool stuff in bags when they donate them. You know, like old shopping lists or notes they forgot to take out.”
“No, not yet,” I said distractedly, rooting through the paper-wrapped items in the bag until I found the one I wanted. “I got you this.”
