By Lyn Wilson (Rated G)
A humble door lies to the observer about what lies beyond.
Azure blue paint faded and peeling reveals aged wood.
Door pull and bell tarnished by time do nothing to invite the adventurer inside.
The door is merely a sentinel, a testament to the passage of years.
Above the door a faded sign.
Ornate calligraphy painted gold, red, cream.
The intrepid onlooker sees an opportunity to explore.
Those merely curious are not enticed.
What would assume from what one sees on the outside?
An old door, peeling paint, a faded sign, a tarnished door pull, a very old door bell.
There is not enough information for an assumption about what is behind the door.
One sharp tug on the door pull.
The old wood gives way suddenly propelling the bold surveyor inside.
Nostrils assailed by the smell of candle wax, old paper, and wood.
The darkened interior, disorientating at first.
An antique shop.
Light and shadows created by a small fireplace dance around the objet d’art.
Blue sunlight seeps through the round, stained glass windows.
The explorer is transfixed.
Shelves, cases, baskets, and trunks,
Gleaming glass, sequins, hints of silver and gold cajole the imagination;
One thousand lovely textures, colors, sounds frolic through the senses.
Movement startles the explorer.
A well dressed, swarthy man appears.
Offering a small cup of strong coffee, the man gestures to the shelves along the wall,
A literal world behind one unassuming door.
Mr. Danan is Moroccan by birth.
His native accent still lingers.
The crease of his pants broke perfectly on the top of his shoes.
His smoking jacket with chinese closure fit his trim upper body perfectly.
His waxed moustache turns up at the corners of his mouth.
Aromatic Frankincense rising from his clothing is nearly intoxicating.
He is a part of this emporium and it is part of him.
Explorer is enchanted,
Mr. Danan’s voice is intoxicating.
Each item for sale has an accompanying story, price negotiable.
Time becomes irrelevant.
As daylight fades
Explorer observes Mr. Danan,
Captivated by him and his shop with its tapestries and its fine rugs.
The artwork spoke to Explorer as though it were living and breathing.
Mr. Danan offers dinner.
In this, his antique shop, Explorer feels oddly alive.
This place touched something she had been missing until now.
A kindred spirit?
Or was it the atmosphere?
Explorer felt a growing anxiety about walking back out through that wooden door.
Afraid that if she left, the spell that had so mesmerized her would be broken.
Mr. Danan spoke.
Would she come back?
Explorer smiled with relief.
Yes, she would come back to Assume Nothing.
Read the sequel, “Time Ticks, Mr. Danan“.