Work Text:
When he left the office, the streetlights competed with the LEDs in the advertisement boards. He hoped it wasn't too late to go to the antique store where he had seen the perfect birthday present for his girlfriend.
He began to run through the passers-by after seeing the time, without stopping to apologize when he bumped into anyone, clinging to the hope of finding the store still open. The celebration was the next day, and he would be too busy to buy the present before the party. He breathed a sigh of relief when he arrived at the location and saw the place lights on.
The porcelain teapot –with its elaborate decoration– was still in the display case. His girlfriend had described a similar one countless times; it had belonged to her grandmother and was lost in a move. She was obsessed with the blessed pottery to the point of having a showcase full of them, in pride of place in her apartment's living room. They were in every shape and size imaginable, and so many that they barely fit in though there was a space waiting for Grandma's teapot or one like it. One day, he jokingly asked her if she loved the teapots more than him, and she answered “Yes” without even blinking.
A bell jingled when he opened the door. An intense smell of incense flooded his nostrils, making him sneeze. The place was packed from floor to ceiling with the most varied objects. Some strange, others common; some beautiful, others horrible. From gramophones to crystal cats, from silver vases to strange rag dolls in mid-nineteenth-century clothing. Pictures, plates, fountains, strollers, clowns, bears, music boxes, umbrellas, cuckoo clocks. In short, things for all tastes.
"Good evening!" he said aloud. "Can somebody help me? I'd want to buy something!"
The bell jingled again as soon as he had taken a couple of steps into a corridor, hoping to find the counter. He turned towards the door and saw a man come in so huge that he covered the entrance.
“Who the hell do you think you are pushing people in the street?” The giant growled, advancing in his direction.
He was so surprised that he remained motionless. The giant grabbed the lapels of his jacket with both hands and lifted him an inch or so as if he was a rag doll.
"You're not going to answer?" the giant yelled, shaking him a little.
He swallowed, trying to contain a disgusted expression as he felt the man’s onion breath on his face, and was opening his mouth to defend himself when he heard a tap-tap-tap.
They both turned toward the direction of the sound –the giant still holding him in the air. An old lady dressed in a flowery dress and leaning on a cane approached them.
"Good evening, gentlemen. I see tempers are a bit heated, but I have the right remedy to cool them down,” she spoke matter-of-factly as if it were a typical occurrence to separate a couple of men in the middle of a fight. "Will you come with me, please?"
The giant released him. They looked at each other for a second, perplexed, and followed the old lady without saying a word. She led them through the maze of corridors to a small sitting room located in the back of the store while she chattered on about a new acquisition.
The tinkling of a bell woke him up.
The last thing he remembered was taking a sip of the tea –too sweet for his taste– that the old lady had served them and seeing the giant fall –in slow motion– on the coffee table, knocking over a plate of cookies and breaking a vase in the process.
He didn't know where he was.
He didn't feel anything. Neither hot nor cold. Neither hunger nor thirst.
She tried to move. It was in vain.
He tried to speak. His mouth did not open.
At least he could see.
He was on a high place. Inside a high place. In front of him was floor-to-ceiling glass, perhaps a window? On the other side of the window, things were of enormous proportions. He was surprised to notice similarities with what he saw when he entered the store.
He started to get anxious. He was having a panic attack, but… shouldn't he at least be hyperventilating? To feel his chest splitting in two? Weren't those the symptoms?
It was then he noticed that, in addition to not breathing, his heart was not beating.
What was happening? Was he dead? Was he dreaming? Where was he?
He tried to calm down, concentrating on everything around him. He looked down and saw that instead of wearing his office suit, he was in someone else's clothes. Out of the corner of one eye, he caught a glimpse of one of the strange rag dolls –it had his height. On his other side was the giant. However, instead of a six-plus-foot-tall, 200-pound muscled man, there was a rag doll, dressed as a mid-nineteenth-century gentleman.
As he tried to make sense of what was happening, he heard voices coming closer. A huge although familiar face stopped in front of him, and turning to the side, his girlfriend's sister said:
“Harold! Harold! I found the perfect present for Moira! This teapot is identical to Grandma's. Do you remember it? The one she lost in the move."