The Lost & Found

The Lost & Found was nestled among hundreds of other stalls in the bustling marketplace, but something about it never failed to draw attention. It wasn’t bold or colorful like its neighbors, it didn’t waft delicious smells or boast a loud, exotic merchant. Instead, it was simple and elegant, made of old rotting wood and smelling faintly of something deliciously unnatural. The structure was sturdy, a deep awning stretching over the front, draped in newly bought creams and golds (these cloths were likely the only thing “new” about the place). A set of shelves adorned the back wall, displaying unassuming little colored bottles of all shapes and sizes that twinkled when caught by the sun’s rays. On the left of the broad counter were little sewn hair ribbons, pretty stones, and inspiring quotes written on delicate slips of paper. On the right were more bottles, these filled with wildflowers and fresh smelling herbs. From behind this stall often peeked a large, brown and black dog who’s tail always thumped and teeth never failed to grin at passerbys. Rumor has it that once there was a snake, pure white as a dove with eyes of gleaming red, that once twirled and slid along the counter.

No one has any proof, however.

But the oddest thing of all about the stall wasn’t its strange wares, its inexplicable longevity, or its unknown founder—it was the sign that hung above it. No matter the eccentricity of the Lost & Found, though, Evelyn knew it was hers and hers alone, and Evelyn loved it.

...

Welcome to the Lost & Found, where nothing need haunt you anymore…

Evelyn swiped a brush across the weathered wooden sign, her final coat of crisp white paint bringing the dingy old sign to life.

“There. A little less creepy now.”  She reached down to adjust her skirt as she stepped off the stool she had been balancing atop. A cold nose nudged her bare foot, followed by the insistent lick of a wet tongue. She laughed, cheery and bright in the dank morning air.

“Ari! Quit that,” She pulled her foot away, but the large dog followed continuing to nose at her toes. “Aristotle,” she barked, this firmer. He stopped immediately and took a step back, expressive brows furrowed. She smiled sadly at him as she slipped on her oversized slippers, “Sorry, honey, I’m a bit busy right now.”

A hand slipped down to pat between his triangular ears before placing the cover on the tin of paint, setting it aside with care. Aristotle padded to his usual blanket behind the counter, thumping down with a long sigh.

Evelyn glanced up at the sign, unsurprised to find the paint nearly dry. In this heat that was to be expected. She reached under the counter of her stall to retrieve a tiny little container and the small brush she had conveniently found several days ago. She popped off the lid and stepped back onto the wobbly stepstool.  But right when she dipped the brush in the liquid gold, Aristotle leaped up from his makeshift bed and barked loudly.

Startled, Evelyn jerked her hand back, sending speckles of gold across her lacy top. “Aristotle!” She snapped crossly, but before she could finish, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“How d’you do, Ms. Evelyn?” Mr. Cleaver’s gruff voice boomed as he bent to scratch Aristotle from where the dog was grinning at his feet.

“Mr. Cleaver, how wonderful to see you, dear! I’m doing ever so fine, thank you very much. And how are you doing on this marvelous morning?” Evelyn’s frown relaxed into a smile as she looked down from her perch.

“I’m doing quite well myself, quite well I tell ya. I reckon you can interest me in some of that there paint!” He barked out a laugh and Evelyn blushed.

“Oh Mr. Cleaver, ever the joker! How’s the academy treating you, sir?” Evelyn reached back up to begin tracing the indented letters with the brush.

The old man grunted as Aristotle nudged into him a little harder than necessary, and Evelyn shot the dog a stern look before resuming her work. “Well, you know how boys are,” he shot her a cheeky look and she let out a charming little giggle, “always causing trouble, y’see. They sure keep me on my toes, though.”

“Ah yes, the mystery that is men,” she teased gently.

“So,” Mr. Cleaver started, standing from his crouch by her dog, “Have anything for me today?”

As Evelyn traced the final letter “e”, she paused, before changing the ellipse to an exclamation point.

Welcome to the Lost & Found, where nothing need haunt you anymore!

“Yes, darling I do! Little Jackie came in with a split lip and handed in something just yesterday evening. Would you like to make a purchase?” She stepped down from her stool, untied her apron, and moved to stand behind the counter.

“Oh dear,” the old man grumbled, “not again. Ah, yes please, I’d like to take that one if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, dear! And how would you like to pay?” Evelyn reached down to extract a tiny, stormy blue bottle from underneath the counter.  Some came looking for lost memories… others came to leave them. This one had been left by a boy with a split lip and trembling hands. Now it would find a new home.

Mr. Cleaver silently placed three gold coins on the counter, and Evelyn slid the bottle to him as she slipped the coins into the pouch at her side. They were the first of the day, and the familiar weight drew a pleased smile to her face.

“Anything else, Mr. Cleaver?”

“No, Ms. Evelyn, but I appreciate your help. I reckon I’ll be back soon enough.” He sighed forlornly. “Little Jackie better stop causing a ruckus or somethin’ bad’ll happen soon.”

Evelyn nodded sagely, Aristotle curled between her legs, and she waved goodbye as the old man hobbled off across the courtyard. “Another good start to another great day,” she murmured to herself, resting her forearms on the plane of the counter. Only the massive dog’s pricked ears seem to catch the edge of sarcasm in her otherwise pleasant tone.

…

The pounding heat and dense humidity pressed against Evelyn’s chest as she traced lazy circles on the old Mesquite countertop. Aristotle was panting, belly up and paws twitching through his dreams. Evelyn’s dark hair was damp against her neck, despite the bun she had twisted it into soon after the sun had risen to its full height. Her eyes were half closed, lazily blinking slower and slower…

She jerked upright as a blessedly cool shadow shaded her burning skin. The man in front of her cleared his throat as she blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of blinding light. She straightened and slipped into her practiced smile.

“Welcome to the Lost & Found, darling,” her voice was light and airy, and the impressing brows on the man furrowed as if opposed to the very idea of happiness.  “What can I do for you on this fantastic day?”

He grunted, eyes flickering over the stall—over her, and Evelyn’s smile beamed even brighter. He hesitated before pulling out a small vial from the pocket of his trousers. It was a deep red, nearly black, and Evelyn’s hands reached greedily for it as he slowly handed it over.

“I want to trade,” he said, black eyes boring into her. Evelyn could feel the pain emanating from the bottle, and she sucked in a sharp breath as she worked to keep her cheery smile on.

“And what are you leaving behind, honey?” This wasn’t a standard question, but Evelyn was curious as to what the man’s response would be.

The man exhaled through his nose, his shoulders pulling together. “A kiss. The last one she ever gave me.”

Something in Evelyn’s stomach pulled tight, and she couldn’t help but raise her brows in response. She gave herself a moment to look at this mysterious man, really look at him. His was a face made for smiling, but it seemed he’d long forgotten how. Despite this, he was tragically handsome, and he wore a dark coat and pants, odd in the stark heat. His broad shoulders were tensed, drawn almost up to his ears where his dark hair curled against the nape of his neck, and he held himself with a tightness that Evelyn had only ever seen in the street fighters. Something made her hesitate before placing the bottle among all the others on the back wall.

“Are…” her voice was soft, prodding. “Are you certain?”

His jaw clenched. “Yes.”

She nodded, turning to place the bottle besides a dull grey one. “Would you like something in return or credit, dear?”

He paused, eyes squinting suspiciously. “That’s an option? I thought you just paid me.”

Evelyn winked, “I can offer you anything you’d like.”

His brows lifted, mouth turning up into the barest flicker of a smile before Evelyn realized what she’d said. Her face flushed and she coughed.

“Um, anything from my stall, that is.” He huffed out a dark laugh and Evelyn accidentally let a glare slip by before she caught it and schooled her face into its usual, sunny grin.

He gave no notice of this temporary lapse and instead replied, “What memories do you have that are… pleasant?”

She turned, grateful to have an excuse to put her back to this odd man that made her act without thinking, and she reached for a glittering yellow bottle. “Here’s a summer afternoon. It’s all sun warmed grass and endless laughter. What do you think, honey?”

He nodded, eyes now dull and shaded over again. “Sounds fine. I’ll take it.”

Evelyn watched as he tucked the memory into his coat pocket and left without another word. Aristotle’s tail thumped against the ground and a low whine emanated from his throat. Evelyn shot him a glare. “Oh stop, you were asleep the whole time, babe.” He cocked his head but lowered it to the ground with a resigned sigh, chocolatey brown eyes following her as she moved towards the back wall.

Evelyn didn’t hesitate before reaching for the dark red bottle and uncorking the stopper. The memory of a last kiss.

She wondered if he’d regret letting it go.