Merchant of Lost Things
He does not have a signboard or a store that you may accidentally walk into on your way to the market. The Merchant of Lost Things appears in unexpected places—at the end of a neglected path, beneath a streetlight that shines perfectly, or in the still moment between waking and sleeping. He deals in memories rather than money. Regrets, not riches. His shelves are not stocked with products, but rather with all the things people have lost: time, innocence, joy, love, and even names that have faded from memory.
He carries a weathered leather bag that is constantly dusty and humming with something invisible. Inside are marbles lost in childhood gardens, songs that healed hearts but disappeared from the radio, and feelings people let slip as they grew older and colder. He also maintains voices—laughs that no longer echo, apologies never spoken, and final words that were never able to be said.
People find him without realizing they were searching for him. They arrive weighed down, hollow, and unsure what happened along the road. And he doesn't talk much. He just raises an eyebrow, opens his case, and lets you see for yourself. Sometimes individuals weep. Sometimes they smile as if they haven't in years. Sometimes they simply stand there, staring at a portion of themselves they believed had disappeared forever.
But nothing is free. To recover what was lost, you must sacrifice something else: a lie you’ve been telling yourself, a grudge you’ve held for too long, or a comfort that is actually a chain. The merchant does not push it. He simply waits, calm as a moonlit lake.
And when the deal is concluded, he disappears, leaving no trace except the sensation that something has changed within you.
He is not a magician. He's not a thief. He is simply the Merchant of Lost Things— and he's only ever exactly where you need him to be.
