Mr. Cable liked to think of himself as a good sales associate.

He ran the little

shack of a store in the corner of 99th street. The neon sign in fancy script read
Bath and Bed, except that it actually said B th and ed. Mr. Cable himself sat
behind the little black desk. He would twiddle his thumbs and wait for them to
come. The answer was patience. A smile, a few well-placed comments, and little
wink of the eye, and on most benevolent days, he could sell a chair or two.

Today, the money jar sat empty. For once, Mr. Cable propped his feet onto
the desk and laced his fingers behind his head. Outside, the world was bleary
and gray, the vision of a delirious man. Snow powdered the concrete, polar bear
people milled about. Mr. Cable glanced down at his thin suit and rubbed his nose
ruefully. The front door was open, gusts of cold air whistling in.

A pair of booted feet appeared in the doorway, and his head snapped up in
military salute. He popped his feet back under the desk and rested his elbows on
his lap. The shriveled old lady shuffled in slowly, squinting at her surroundings.

“How may I help you today, Ma’am?” She gave him a glare and his signature
smile dimmed a bit.

“Don’t Ma’am me. I’m not young anymore, anyone with half an eye can see
that.” She snapped. He flinched, but resumed the practiced air.

“Maybe you’d like to view our assortment of bathtubs? We’ve got a

staggering amount. Or, perhaps the lamps suit your taste—“

“I’m looking for mirrors.” She hobbled her way past him. “Show me your
mirrors. I want to buy a mirror.”

Speechlessly obedient, the young man led her to the back, the back being a
tiny dug in space for barely two people. Mirrors of all shapes and sizes glinted
from the peeling walls. Cobwebs hung in the crevices. He swallowed and tugged
at his tie.

“Square ones, round ones, you name it. The holidays are coming up, that red
one would make a lovely present.” The old lady ignored his comment and
pointed a gilded oval one.

“That. I want that. How much? How much?”

After shoving five bills into the jar, he wrapped the Victorian looking mirror
in tissue paper and dropped it into a bag. “Here you go. It’ll look great in the
living room.”

She scowled at him again, showing a mouthful of yellow teeth. Weakly, he

ushered her out. It hadn’t stopped snowing.

“Have a nice day!”

 It wasn’t until Mr. Cable sat back down behind his desk did he realize that the
old lady’s crow-feet eyes were milky white. He shivered, then closed the front
door.

The wind whistled in from beneath.