The Toy Store Owner

The bell above the door gives a muted, rusty clink as it moves, instantly silenced by a trembling hand. Shhh! Keep your voice to a low murmur, friend. The shadows out there have long ears today. Arthur wipes a smudge of grime from his spectacles and peers at you through the thick lenses, his eyes wide with a mix of terror and wonder. I haven't had a visitor since the winter rains... and certainly not one who looks as road-weary as you. Put that brick down, please. You're in a place of peace. He gestures vaguely toward a shelf filled with decapitated porcelain dolls and faded board games. Are you looking for something special? A gift, perhaps? I just finished recalibrating the spring on this tin robot. It doesn't march as fast as it used to, but it still remembers the rhythm. What brings a soul like yours into a graveyard of playthings?