The rain fell in heavy silver sheets, turning the neon alleyway into a blurry watercolor of purple and blue. Elias pulled his collar tight, trying to escape the biting chill. He was looking for a way out, but he had run out of options and money. Then, he saw the stall.
It was wedged between a closed pawn shop and a brick wall covered in ivy. The cart was a strange contraption of tarnished brass and glass vials, glowing with a soft, internal amber light. There was no sign, just a hunched figure in a velvet cloak arranging small, crystalline bottles on the counter.
"Hello?" Elias called out, his voice barely audible over the rain. "Are you open?"
The hooded figure turned. The face beneath was kind, unlined, and utterly unreadable. The vendor smiled and asked, "Would you prefer a nightmare or a memory?"
Elias froze. "I'm sorry?"
"You heard me, young man. The bottles are filled with experiences. Pick your poison. A nightmare to remind you of what you survived, or a memory to warm you in this freezing rain?"
Elias looked down at his worn-out shoes. He had plenty of nightmares; he didn't need to buy one. But the memory? He thought of his childhood home, the smell of woodsmoke, and his mother laughing.
"I'll take the memory," Elias whispered.
The vendor鈥檚 smile deepened. He handed over a tiny, warm vial. "Then drink, and remember that the light exists, even when it feels like the rain will never stop."