Only a tiny square of carpet breathed fresh air amidst the snowfall of tissues and trash choking Johan’s apartment. He snatched the keys and walked bambily through the garbage piles to the door; the sun seared a cruel insignia into his eyes.

He put on his visor, and hunched over the register.

“Come to my store. It just opened on Church Street” said the old foreigner. He was a cheerful blade, parting the drear of unthought questions.

Please, don’t make me talk to you, you old fuck.

“Maybe, and did you want to supersize that?” said Johan.

That night a menagerie of monster cans watched Johan, neck a crane, eyes blood-red, plunge into battle with dragons. They stood guard as he conquered a harem from his leather throne. Morning came and he peeled himself from sleep, eyes caked with lingering high.

“Come to my store. It just opened on Church Street. We sell what you need” said the stranger.

Oh, sweet fuck, I hope your children never learn to read.

“I’ll have to come by and check it out. What kind of drink, again?” said Johan.

That evening his pale, melty stomach gasped in relief as the fries oiled down his throat. A more exotic harem comforted him. He rammed down the potion the doctor had given. It was time to up the dosage; waning were their effects.

Oh fuck you fuck you fuck you.

“Come to my store. It just opened on Church…”

“You know, I was planning on coming by today,” said Yohan.

Fine.

A wooden sign led to the sub-street shop. It read “Soleno’s Wonders: Pawn Shop.” To Johan, the clinging of the bell felt like the draw of a shade.

“I have just the thing for you, my friend. It is a mirror, a magic mirror,” Soleno said with a horrid jubilance.

“What does it do?”

“It’s from ancient Rome, it’s called a Speculum Veritas. Ask it a question and you’ll get an answer. But, be careful, the mirror only tells the truth.”

Maybe if I buy this bullshit he’ll leave me alone

That night Johan pulled the worn sheet from the mirror. Carvings ran across the aged wood. It showed a world of fog and cracks.

“Alright mirror, pray tell who cursed me to this miserable existence?” he asked.

The next day came. Soleno’s silver bell cheered.

“I want my money back, you old cheat,” spoke Johan, the corners of his mouth betraying a yellow smirk.

Soleno sighed and leaned back into his chair.

“Why is that, my friend?” he asked.

“Because, it’s just a regular mirror. Not even a lousy fucking gimmick.”

Eyes downcast, Soleno wrote into his notes:

Patient 113-457D is not ready.

If Johan bothered to look past the two twenties promptly handed, he would have laughed at the title of the log.

“And stay the fuck away from my job unless you’re buying something,” Johan spit as he walked out.

Soleno smiled and added:

Professional recommendation: another 1000 year or so.