The cat was in such bad shape. His toe beans were hard as rocks, his fur wiry, some of his teeth either broken or missing, and his ears and whiskers showed signs of frostbite. I pet him carefully, running my palm over his back, tracing the black stripe from head to tail. He was so muscular it was like petting marble covered by horsehair. He rolled over and exposed his belly. I placed my hand ever so gently on his downy, snowy belly.
Unlocking the Illusion
My pawn shop exists at a junction where reality is threaded with magic. To regular customers, it's just a store. To special clientele, it's a place to purchase items that arrive from another dimension. These special things have a distinct vibrancy, a definite glow, that makes the world around them appear old, faded, and worn. These items get put in the glass case under the till.