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CHAPTER1
Andreas
I thinkI might have accidentally started World War III.
Taking a break from the impassioned bidding currently happening on my computer screen, I sigh, rubbing my chin and feeling the stubble that’s more like a short beard after several days of not shaving. Usually, I like to keep my appearance smooth and sharp. But after many days of rummaging through dusty boxes, I can’t say I care much right now.
Looking out over the edge of my balcony, I slowly inhale the warm evening air. Even though I’ve been down under for a few years now, it’s difficult for me to think of December as being the height of summer. It’s hard to argue with this gorgeous weather, though.
I close my eyes and allow gratitude to wash through me. Immersing myself in this frustrating task might have left me feeling grumpy at this particular moment, but I do know I live a very charmed life.
The ding of another bid comes through on my eBay listing, making me wince. I glance from the laptop through the sliding patio door at the dozens of items I currently have laid out in my living room. The door is closed to keep the cool air in, but the lights are on, and now that night is coming down, I can see everything illuminated well.
When I moved my whole life from London to Sydney, I didn’t have the time to deal with sorting my stuff out. I just had most of it shipped halfway around the world and packed away into a storage unit where I didn’t give it all a second thought.
Until now.
I had an embarrassing amount of holiday left to use before the year ran out, so I figured it was finally time to open everything back up and take a look. When I uprooted my life five years previously, I literally packed everything. All the crap I’d been shuffling from place to place since I graduated uni almost twenty years ago. I didn’t even know what half of it was anymore. I just kept it out of habit.
And what a lot of rubbish there was sitting there waiting for me when I unearthed it all again this week.
It’s crazy how much I’ve just chucked into the bin. Some nostalgic bits and bobs are now proudly on display in my Mosman apartment, which overlooks the bay, giving it a little more character than the lifeless state it’s been in. It’s still pretty soulless, I’m sad to admit, but it’s a start.
What was left in the faded cardboard boxes, I’m now selling.
It’s not like I need the money in the slightest. It’s more that I can recognize that these items might not spark joy for me anymore, but I can see they would easily be valuable or cherished by others, and I like the idea of giving them second lives in new homes.
Except ‘joy’ isn’t exactly what’s sparking right now online.
I wince as the bids keep going up and up. I’ll admit, when I sorted everything out to photograph so I could sell it on eBay, some stupid kid’s toy wasn’t what I thought was going to be the most hotly contended item. I’ve thrown an Omega watch on there for a quarter of its original price, for crying out loud. But nope. The thing that’s going nuclear is a battered, very much preloved set of space dinosaurs and the action heroes who ride them.
Jurassic Galaxy was one of those bonkers nineties TV shows that was almost certainly cooked up by studio execs after they’d snorted a bit too much of the good stuff. Even though I was slightly too old for it when it came out, I became mildly obsessed with the brightly colored dinos and their zany human companions. It probably had something to do with the fact that the lead guy was actuallyBlack.That wasn’t something I saw much of at all when I was growing up.
It’s funny that I really didn’t want to get rid of the set of action figures. I’ve displayed them in every place I’ve lived since I collected them in my teens. But when I looked around my fancy Sydney pad, it didn’t feel like they fit anymore. Getting rid of them seemed like the right thing to do.
Secretly, I’d hoped they wouldn’t get any bids. Then I could justify boxing them back up and putting them under my bed or something. But whoever these two people are…they mean business.
The listing is ending in less than ten minutes, and they’ve suddenly gone on a rampage, trying to outbid each other. That’s pretty standard in online auctions, as far as I know. People will often try and swoop in at the last second to snatch the prize from under everyone else’s noses.
But this is getting a little ridiculous between JayBirdQueen94 and Sunshine_Dino. I initially put the collection of toys up for a measly ten Australian dollars, but they’ve currently bumped themselves up to over eighty and aren’t showing any signs of stopping.
These action figures really aren’t worth that. They are properly scratched up, their joints are loose, and the poor triceratops is missing the end of his tail. Years ago, I fancied maybe trying to restore them by freshening up their paint and perhaps making that poor fellow a new tail with molding clay or something. But I talked myself out of it as it seemed frivolous and not the sort of thing a man of my age should be doing.
I think that’s why the bidding is getting to me. I’m regretting ever listing the set for so little, like it never meant anything to me. Whoever these two bidders are, they’re showing me just how valuable the toys actually are, despite what I might have tried telling myself.
It’s too late to back out now. I wince as I watch the seconds tick down to zero, and it really is a matter of luck who gets the final bid in. At a whopping ninety-five dollars, the winner is Sunshine_Dino, and I can’t help but let out a sigh of relief that it’s over. Sadness washes over me as I look over at my beloved collection. My only solace that whoever the new owner is, it seems that they’ll care as much or even more about these little guys than I have. As I do.
I puff out my cheeks again and shake my head, deciding that a glass of wine is in order. I head back inside the coolness of my flat and into the kitchen to pour one, reminding myself that this is for the best.
For a while now, I’ve been thinking that I need to try seriously dating. It’s been ages since I brought a guy home, and when I do, I want to give the right impression. Now that I’m in my late thirties I’m starting to understand what kind of boyfriend I’d like to be. It helps being older, I think, because I know that I really enjoy taking care of younger, sweet guys. Not that there’s been one of those in a good while, with how busy work has been. But if I set my heart on finding someone, I want to assure them when I bring them home that I’m up to the task of taking care of them.
Battered kids’ toys do not scream reliability, even if they’re hidden in a box somewhere.Ineed to know that I’m mature and responsible. So this is all for the best.
It takes at least half the glass before I can pretend to myself that’s true.
With a rueful chuckle of resignation, I finally make my way back out to the sectional sofa I have out on the large, covered balcony, and take a look at my laptop. I was expecting the notification that I’d made a sale, but I’m surprised to see two messages waiting for me to read.
One each from Sunshine_Dino and JayBirdQueen94.
