You walk down an endless street full of retail shops crowding curbs, until the back of your neck tingles, the sky like black and crimson tiles. You stop next to a picture window and a door. The brass plaque on the door reads: The Bag And The Crow. Founded by Jassen Bailey, 2010. Live models wear shirts weaved of night, threaded with the golden rays of dawn. They appear happy. You think, If only to feel the way they look. You fiddle nervously with the zipper of your coat because your torso is as cold as your face is hot.

Yes, you think. This place has what I need.

Inside this darkened shop a man stands behind a black counter, a smile on his face, shaved head gleaming beneath a naked light bulb. You ask, “How did I get here?”

Looking around, you see good things, things from childhood and as a man, toys and shirts you’d broken and worn from too much use for too damn long. You smile sadly, thinking of a book you read as a teen, and know that none of it is really there. You’re not really here. Sweating, you ask, “Where am I?”

The shadows whisper, “The number one shop for hungry souls.”

The proprietor moves beside you. He says, “Life is one big waiting game for whatever comes After. Here we think it’s best to enjoy yourself with all that life has to offer now, to cherish the little things crafted in love.” And you see that you can have what you want again—something unique and special—and maybe it’s good and maybe it’s bad, but people drift in and out, along the street, around the room, ghosts really, who wish to have what you have right here—something of true quality to bring them comfort, to give them identity.