Library

I opened a scrapyard in the old city. Others collected scrap metal and cardboard boxes, but I only collected one thing - regret. I took away the unspoken apologies, the people I missed, and the dreams I gave up, and helped them rewrite their endings. Until one day, a man in a suit and tie walked in and said that he wanted to sell his conscience that had killed others. I smiled: Sorry, I won't accept anything that's too dirty.

Hidden deep in the thick fog in the mountains is a grocery store that only opens at dusk. I am the shopkeeper here. I don't sell ordinary department stores. I only do one business - to take care of "half my life" for others. Some people come to store a broken memory that they dare not touch, some people come to seal an obsession that cannot be obtained, and some people come to pawn a heartbeat that can no longer be expressed. The fog disperses and gathers, and people come and go. I guard this shop, and I also guard the road they hide in their hearts and dare not finish. There is no advice here to let go, no reconciliation, only to find a quiet corner for those lost thoughts, and wait until the fog clears one day to come back and take the rest of your life back completely.