Summer had arrived, bringing with it a heatwave that made the air in "Old Tales" feel damper than usual. Azazel, in a slightly loose linen shirt, was spraying a special cleaning solution onto a Baroque-carved mirror. His reflection, slightly blurred amidst the silver gleam and the stains of time, showed his slender silhouette and perpetually disheveled hair. Chloe, who usually idled on the floor, now opted to sleep atop a cool stack of old newspapers.
The shop door creaked, not with its usual heavy groan, but with a lighter sound, accompanied by a loud cell phone ringtone. A young woman entered, carrying a worn cardboard box. She wore ripped jeans and an oversized vintage band t-shirt. Her hair was haphazardly tied up, and glasses sat askew on her nose. Her round, expressive face immediately showed that she was in awkward sitcom mode.
"Excuse me, sir! This is an antique shop, right?" she asked, her voice a little panicked. "Not a broken-heart repair shop, right?"
Azazel stopped wiping the mirror, turning towards the voice. His keen observation immediately caught that the woman was holding her phone upside down. "That's right, Miss. How can I help you?"
"Oh, thank goodness!" The woman sighed with relief, but then tripped over her own feet and nearly dropped the box she was carrying. She hastily regained her balance, her cheeks flushing. "Sorry, please excuse my awkwardness. I—I'm just... panicking. This is serious!"
Chloe lifted her head, glancing with lazy eyes, as if commenting on the level of chaos that had just entered her shop.
"What is it, Miss?" Azazel asked, trying to sound calm, though there was a hint of amusement in his heart at the woman's antics. He was socially awkward himself, so he could recognize a kindred spirit.
"So, here's the thing," the woman approached, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, "I'm in the campus theater drama. And I need a prop. A very... specific prop." She placed the box on the counter, carefully as if it contained a bomb. "I need... a pocket watch."
Azazel raised an eyebrow. "A pocket watch?" His shop was filled with pocket watches. "Many pocket watches here. Is there a specific kind?"
"One that makes strange noises!" the woman exclaimed, her eyes wide. "I mean, it chimes at the wrong time! Or ticks too loudly! Or—or maybe even stops ticking in the middle of a romantic scene!" She threw her hands in the air, then immediately covered her own mouth. "Oh my god, I sound crazy, don't I?"
Azazel stared at her, expressionless. "No. Just... looking for a very unique prop." He walked towards the glass cabinet containing the pocket watch collection. "Why does it have to make strange noises?"
"It's for a scene where my main character is declaring their love, and suddenly their family heirloom pocket watch goes 'crick-crack-tick-tock' and then dies! A symbol of a broken heart!" The woman explained with excessive enthusiasm, which almost made Azazel smile. "It has to look antique, but its behavior has to be chaotic!"
Azazel opened the glass cabinet. "Miss, well-maintained antique clocks are like healthy relationships. They tick at their own rhythm, consistently. It's rare for one to become 'chaotic' on its own without serious damage."
"But I need a broken one!" she shrieked. "One that shows that love is... fragile! Like a randomly ticking clock!"
Azazel sighed. "Relationships are fragile like old scratched vinyl records, Miss, not like broken clocks. Vinyl records can still be repaired, broken clocks tend to just fall apart." He pointed to a row of pocket watches. "These all tick normally. I don't sell broken goods."
The woman's face looked desperate. "Oh no! Then my drama will be ruined! I have to find another clock somewhere else? But I have so little time left!" She started pacing back and forth, ruffling her own hair. Chloe followed her movements with a curious gaze.
Azazel looked at the woman, then at Chloe who was now rubbing herself against the woman's legs, as if trying to calm her. Something tickled Azazel. His cynical and sarcastic nature emerged. "Alright," he said, "I might have something that's... aesthetically 'chaotic'."
He took a small box from the top shelf. Inside, there was a silver pocket watch whose surface appeared somewhat dented, and its glass was cracked on one side. However, when Azazel opened its cover, the watch ticked with a perfect rhythm, its hands moving precisely.
"This," Azazel said, "is a watch that once fell from a height. Its appearance might seem pitiable, like a wounded heart. But its mechanism... its mechanism still works perfectly. It shows resilience, not destruction." He handed the watch to the woman. "Perhaps this could be a deeper symbol, Miss. That even after falling and being wounded, the beat of love can still endure."
The woman took the watch, staring at it. She turned it over in her hands, seeing the dents and cracks, then hearing its steady tick. There was a glint in her eyes. "This watch... it doesn't tick strangely. But... it does look like a wounded heart. This is good!" She smiled widely, a smile that suddenly transformed her entire facial expression. "And that symbolism... that's excellent! Okay, this is it! How much is the rent, sir?"
Azazel was a little surprised by the woman's drastic change in mood. He looked at the pocket watch in the woman's hand, then sighed. "For theater prop rental, Miss... Consider it a discount for artists who appreciate stories. Just return it in the same condition, or better."
The woman gaped. "Free? Seriously? Oh my god, you're a guardian angel!" She bowed repeatedly. "Thank you so much, sir! I don't know what to say!" She even almost bowed too low and bumped into a bookshelf.
"No problem, Miss," Azazel replied, a little awkward with the emotional outpouring. He felt like a clock that had just been reset, slightly unaccustomed to the new vibrations.
The woman then saw Chloe still sitting at her feet. "Oh, hello, cute cat! Are you helping with props too?" She petted Chloe, and Chloe meowed, as if responding.
"She's more often a art critic," Azazel commented flatly.
"Alright, Chloe, wish my drama good luck!" The woman said goodbye with a series of exaggerated thanks, then hurried out of the shop with the pocket watch in her hand, leaving a trail of awkward laughter and a spark of brightness.
Azazel returned to his mirror, resuming his wiping. He looked at his reflection, which now felt a little clearer. Perhaps he was socially awkward, a bit introverted, and full of antique analogies. However, amidst those dusty piles of memories, he found moments that reminded him that even in chaos and panic, beauty could be found, and sometimes, a glimmer of comedy could change the mood. He smiled faintly. Chloe jumped onto the counter, looking at Azazel with her intelligent eyes, as if agreeing.
And in the corner of the table, the glass shards still glittered, silent. Azazel wondered if those shards also had a story of awkward laughter, or perhaps something more... romantic?