The bell above Marcus's shop door chimed softly as an elderly woman entered. She moved slowly, her eyes darting around the shop nervously. Marcus looked up from organizing his memory collection.
"Can I help you?" he asked gently.
The woman clutched her purse tightly. "I... I need to buy a memory," she said in a shaky voice. "Something happy. Something to replace the sad ones."
Marcus had seen customers like this before. People who wanted to trade their pain for someone else's joy. But he had learned that memories weren't like old clothes you could simply swap.
"What kind of happy memory are you looking for?" he asked.
The woman's eyes filled with tears. "My grandson died last month. Every time I think of him, all I can remember is the hospital, the machines, his pale face. I want to remember him laughing, playing, being alive."
Marcus felt his heart sink. He walked over to his collection of childhood memories – first steps, birthday parties, summer days at the beach. These were genuine memories from people who had chosen to sell their happiest moments.
"These are beautiful memories," he said softly, showing her the glowing memory crystals. "But they won't erase your grief. They'll just add someone else's joy on top of your pain."
The woman looked confused. "Isn't that what I want?"
Marcus shook his head. "Your memories of your grandson, even the sad ones, are precious. They're proof that you loved him. If you cover them with someone else's memories, you might lose what made your relationship with him special."
He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Grief is heavy, but it's also love with nowhere to go. Someone else's happy memories won't heal that. Only time and your own heart can do that."
The woman was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she nodded. "You're right. I think... I think I need to keep my memories, even the difficult ones."
As she left the shop, Marcus realized something important. Being a memory merchant wasn't just about selling memories. Sometimes it was about helping people understand which memories were worth keeping.