I turned to Mr. Finch, and he smiled. "You are...?"
"What do you want to forget?" Mr. Finch asked, his voice low and soothing. inside no. 9
He showed me around the shop, pointing out various items on the shelves. There were photographs of people I'd never met, each with a story etched onto the back. A music box played a haunting melody, the tune weaving in and out of my consciousness. I turned to Mr
The shopkeeper, an elderly man with sunken eyes, looked up from behind the counter. "Welcome to Memories Bought and Sold. I am the proprietor, Mr. Finch." I turned to Mr. Finch