Amnesia

The war ended. I was walking past the ruins of destroyed houses when I suddenly saw a sign that read "Antique". Quite odd, considering the crisis state of the country. What kind of person could open a shop with vintage junk in the ruins of an old house? Not even in the ruins, but underneath them, in a bunker… An antique dealer, who seemed to be about my age, met me. He was delighted, as he put it, with a "rare visitor". I took a closer look at one of the records. If I save up some money - I'll definitely buy it. Joy in little things. The place is quite strange, though. It feels as if something horrifying had happened there before… Life is boring, you come up with all kinds of nonsense for yourself...