The man's name was Norman. It was night.
He sat there, picking apart calluses at the base of his fingers. The city's lights, which never died down, illuminated that worn and torn hat of his. Around it was a medallion that bore heavily onto him.
It was hard to find a job in the city, particularly for him, as fake identification never flew by these days.
He had resorted to miscellaneous employment in order to help provide for any financial needs he and his partner may have.
A small part of the neighborhood knew him by the name Simone. That one guy who'd run errands, do chores, and complete a few mundane tasks all for a couple of bucks.
Now he obviously wasn't Simone. He was Norman.
Patiently, he waited on a park's bench, for something… when. From the bushes, he saw a familiar critter.
"Well look who it is, you're late." He mused.
Out from the leaves came a creature with satellite dishes for ears, a scaly complexion, and cloudy eyes. It was cautious, though the man's voice was familiar.
A whiff of the air was all it needed to confirm, to lower its guard.
Reaching for a can of cat food from his jacket and prying it open with his fingers the man promptly placed it on the ground.
He watched it eat.
"Who's the most cat, cat in this city?"
He remarked with a sort of tired indifference.
"Yes, you are."
Despite his words, his actions took to things differently. He gently brushed its scales with the touch of his finger whilst the maimed thing devoured its meal.
Sure, it had the stature of a feline, but you couldn't call it that.
The man waits for the unfortunate soul to finish its dinner and scurry off before disposing of the metal can.
Throwing it far into the distance, into a bin.
Ok, maybe it wasn't that far.
Digging deep into his pockets, he'd been saving ever since. It still wasn't enough. What could he buy with two dollars, a water bottle, bread?
Was it enough?
"I'd have to look carefully." He mumbled to himself.
Standing, he walks with a sense of direction.
He had woven a sweater for her, his wife — It was tucked away in a secret compartment — He'd worked so hard to perfect it over the months, but it needed more.
There was a store that sold trinkets and scented candles, in particular.
A humble yet well-lit establishment. The man ducked under, entering the tiny store through a thinly painted vintage door.
The several chimes roughly tied to the inner workings of the doorknob gently sounded, alerting the drowsy woman who sat by the counter. Yet, after a quick glance, her attention quickly returned to shuffling through papers and counting money.
Careful not to hit his head, he lowered it.
He was, after all, a little, if not taller than the store itself.
Among the rigid shelves, he'd find all sorts of things: lanterns, small statues, incense, music boxes, and heaps of candles. However, one thing caught his eye.
Dusty and weathered having been in the furthest corner of the rack—a little reddish box.
He reached for it, knocking over a trinket or two. They both seemed fine, whilst the other objects seem unperturbed.
"Break it, you pay for it, kid…" The lady dismissively remarks, rolling her eyes. Only to resume work.
Careful not to disturb a certain someone further, he attentively grabs the reddish box. Returning the tipped objects as they were.
And there it was... but something's off.
Lightly, lifting the dirt off its velvet splendor. He'd open it with his two thumbs, unveiling a delicate silver necklace embellished with a dainty stone resembling the color of late summer grass bearing hints of light umber.
It perfectly encapsulated his wife's ethereal eyes.
Every loop of the chain bore markings smaller than an ant's head. These were dwarven enchantments of protection, no less.
That's what it was.
Closing the case, he felt something tug at his heartstrings. How could he possibly afford something like this… It couldn't have been phony. Plastic certainly cannot withstand the power of a dwarven engraving, no matter how minor the affixes are.
Of all places, it ended up?!
'Curses!' He screamed inwardly.
Was it a good thing he found something so precious, for so cheap… or a sick trick of how terribly off-budget his choice was?
'It's an artifact. What's a dwarven artifact doing in a store like this…'
Mindfully, the man took a breath and composed himself.
His eyes fell upon the set price hanging diligently on the ledge — 15$ — The usual cold expression grew visibly colder as his brows furrowed ever so slightly.
'If that woman likely knew what was inside this case, she would charge more. Tons more.'
'Considering the box's condition, she might not know.'
'Should I take my chances?'
'I don't have enough money to begin with!…'
"Uhh…"
Bitterly, he stared at the red case. Thinking… and thinking… all of this made it uncomfortable for his back…
Wait.
That's not why his back ached… He's been slouching since earlier.
He couldn't stand upright, no matter how badly he wanted to.
"I don't have all night, kid."
"Pick something out if ya will, scram if ya won't."
Irritated, he rubbed his temples through the leather hat resting on his head when a solution… came to mind.
*Sigh——*
He headed toward the counter, box at hand.
Seeing no other way out of this he took a gamble of sorts.
Untying the silver medallion, relieving the old hat of its burden
"I'd like to sell something?"
The man handed the medallion
Its metallic sheen caught her off guard, one might even say bewildered. Swiftly she snatched it from his grasp, only to inspect its authenticity.
The woman fully focused on appraising the medallion's quality, pausing, only to say:
"18$"
Though anyone in the right mind would have known its worth at least thrice as much.
"25," He said back.
"Deal"
Exiting the store, he seemed unbothered and expectant, as stoic as the man was. One couldn't really tell anything per se.
However, his thoughts seemed to be simpler than anyone could have guessed.
He left that place giddier than any kid could have been after a visit to the amusement park.
The lady couldn't have cared less about the box, not after attaining what she'd believed to be more valuable than anything left in her grandma's lousy shop…
The rainfall assumes a light patter, the streets unmoved.
Many things remain still.
Among them was a child that looked no older than 6, if it weren't for a metal can the kid's pale and thin arm held out
One wouldn't be able to tell the child apart from whatever disregarded junk they lay by.
That can…
The man was familiar with the tin. He'd bought it a week prior. Experimenting with different kinds of cat food for whatever his frail feline companion may like…
Companion… might have stretched the thought… as it never once accompanied him.
It particularly hated that brand, though it never seemed picky. Suppose it was the brand itself.
That day, it hardly ate any food.
Forcing the man to dispose of the rest.
Throwing it into the same bin he'd always thrown the usual empty cans of cat food.
Wasting money was never given… but
What could a man do with cat food even a "cat" didn't want… at that hour?
Well
Whatever it was, it was too late.
"Hey kid"
Crouching, he held a ten dollar bill inbetween his fingers
"Ummm…" The child seems, unresponsive.
"Wakey wakey?"
"Found this bill on the ground, it yours?"
"No?"
"I'll be real with you, I couldn't need it less."
Taken at face value, it seemed like sarcasm. However, Norman's voice and expression somehow defied any of the sort, though his eyes pondered a knowing unease.
Inhaling, he'd portray a straight face.
"It might just grow wings! Up up and away! Never to be seen again!"
"Oh! Op, there it goes!"
"No?… oh?… Just the wind eh?"
After a brief moment passed, he decided to take things seriously.
"yeah, uh, kid?"
"I'll be serious from now on, no more jokes"
Lightly he touched the child's wrist. Only for it to go limp, freeing the can it so desperately held onto.
The kid was gone.
He tried to let go of whatever pessimism lingered, but in the end. The truth was unfortunate.
Either the smell was masked by heavy rainfall, or simply the time of passing had occurred within the day.
Norman didn't say a thing. Quietly, he tucked the kid's arm under a blanket the rest of the body had been covered in.
At this stage, he's drenched in rainwater… but he made it a point to at least carry the corpse to the station.
He's rawdogged the elements countless times before, what's a little walk. His wife never approved of such antics, though this she'll understand.
Casually walking.
He uttered a string of words to the small corpse of a kid:
"Sorry about that, i should've arrived sooner." His expression was unreadable.