Book3:WereMyDreamIs

eostepintoastorepiledhighwithallkindsofproducts.Theywerenotcategorizedandexhibitedinanorderlyfashioherstoressothaterscouldseewhatwasoagnfact,everythingiledckadaisicallyontablesandstrewedaboutanyoldway.Thesalespersonwasaveryoldwoman,stoopedandwrinkled,oionherhead.Whenshesawaerstepin,hereyesshohintelligendlookedEmmanuelupanddownsaying,

    “Sir,Iseeyouareschizophrenic.Wouldyouliketotalktome?Ichargeonly15forthat.ButifyouwanttoknowmoreiailIusethetarocardstotellyoufortune.ForthatIcharge50.Howaboutit,sir?”Asithappehatthiswasnotonlyanantiquestore,buyingandsellingoldthingsbutitwasalsoapceforfortuelling.

    “Tohellwiththatmumbojumbo”repliedEmmanuelrudely,wavingtheoldwomanaside.“Idon’tbelieveinthatstuff.”Theoldwoman’ssharpeyesfollowedEmmanueshewanderedarouore.Theinteriorofthestorewasdimandthewaresexhibitedthereweremostlyoldradios,mps,armclocks,telephoneanddust-coatedswallow-tailedcoats,nothingmuchofi,iingonlytojunkcollectorsandpeoplewhocherishedoldthings.Emmanuelwasjustabouttoleavewhenhisfootkickedagainstsomethinghardontheground.Hepickeditupandsawitwasanoldrustybrooise.

    “Putthatbackwhereyoufoundit.It’snotforsale”saidtheoldwoman.

    “Whatrot”saidEmmanuelcrudely.“Whatisitdoinginyourstoreifit’snotforsale?”

    “Itbelongstoawhite-beardeddwarfwholeftitwithmefiftyyearsago.Hesaidhewouldbebackforit,buthenevercameback.However,Iwillkeepmypromiseaforhim.Putitbackwhereitbelongs.”

    Emmanuelrefusedtolistentotheoldwoman’sexpnations.Peelingouttendolrsfromhiswallet,hethrewitoableandwalk