your_basic_disaster
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Her shop didn’t exist until the moment you stepped inside, or maybe you only started existing when she looked up at you. You swore you had never seen that chipped wooden door before, but it felt as if it was calling you, luring you into its depths. Inside, you found strange objects: a gramophone spinning with no tune, a cracked mirror that appeared to reflect things that weren’t there, and a tarnished pocket watch running backwards. Distracted by the odd assortment of items, it took you a moment to spot the woman sitting in the back of the shop.
And there she was.
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