I Used a Thousand Years of Loneliness to Redeem the World

My business store opened today under a modern overpass, disguised as a second-hand bookstore. When the first person opened the door and walked in, I knew what she was willing to exchange - it was a golden memory, with the sound of summer popsicles and bicycle bells. "I want to forget him." She said, but her eyes were fixed on a certain point in the sky, as if her most cherished scene was being replayed there. I smile, this is one of the most common misunderstandings. People always think that the most painful memories are the most precious, but actually the opposite is true. "No," I said softly, "what you want to give me is the moment when he clumsily put on the wildflower bracelet for you on the afternoon of June 12, 2001." Her tears finally fell. I know that another beautiful crystal is about to be added. It wasn't until that day when I started to cry myself that I realized that some memories were so heavy that even a thousand-year container couldn't hold them.