Showing up on a bridge with zero memory, completely naked and covered in blood, left a lot of questions. Not only from me, but from everyone. Those first few weeks were a blur of police stations and hospital rooms, evaluations, and borderline interrogations.

After countless court sessions, the powers that be determined I needed to meet certain criteria before I could get a full identity. No identity meant no papers, which meant no license, which also meant lots and lots of bus rides to get around.

Thankfully, I lived in a town with an adequate bus system, so it rarely became a problem. But the ride today was over quicker than I would have liked it to be. After the chaos of therapy and my disastrous display of social awkwardness, I had looked forward to the stillness of the bus ride. I had hoped to silence the storm in my head with time in my sketchbook as the routine sounds of the bus ride lulled me to peace.

The stop near the antique store where I worked was a block away, offering one last chance to find calm before Rachel's coffee-induced rambling. My eyes shot to the sky once more, chasing shapes as I watched them roll overhead. It was something I did anytime I was outside - out of instinct - like I had done it my whole life but couldn't remember why.

Thunder roared in the distance, and the faint electricity still clinging to the air made the hair on my arms dance. Another storm loomed behind the last, so I picked up my pace and dashed to the store.

An immediate wash of relief melted over me as I entered the automatic sliding doors of the shop. One of my favorite parts of this job was this moment. Walking in each day to this smell. As if it were a familiar, warm embrace of old, pulling me in tight and not letting go. It gave me a sense of calmness, of belonging.

“SAVIIIIIII!!!!!” Rachel plowed around a corner to greet me, but there was a sudden stop in her stride. “Oh God, you look like shit!”

“Nice to see you too, bestie."

Given the events of the morning, she was likely right. Not that my usual face didn’t betray me on a regular basis. It did. I possessed what Rachel called "a face you could read like a book." Although I tried hard to hide my thoughts and feelings, my face always gave me away.

“Was it Dr. Hotness or the dreams that’s to blame for all.... this?” she asked, pointing to her own face and gesturing around. “If it's the dreams, you’re on your own, but if it's Dr. Hotness, I would be more than happy to deal with him.”

Without giving me time to respond, she grabbed my hand and led me to the back. “It doesn’t matter right now, ‘cause I know what will cheer you up and bring back some life to that face of yours. But seriously, you couldn't be bothered to put on a little foundation?”

Any other day I would meet her halfway on the teasing, going blow for blow, but not today. I didn’t care what I looked like, nor if my face matched my mood. Rachel and I were total opposites when it came to the way we presented ourselves.

She was a super bubbly girly girl, always fussing over her appearance. While I was more of a moody introverted tomboy, opting for jeans and T-shirts whenever possible. But when it came to our friendship, we were drawn to each other from the moment we’d met.

“Close your eyes.” Rachel stood by the two massive swinging doors leading to the warehouse.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t make me hurt you.”

She pushed the door backward, opening one side. "Ta-da!"

A huge bundle of antiques filled the warehouse floor. My heart raced as I saw the pile of new possibilities and eagerly sifted through them.

“Oh my gods, Rach, look at this mirror! It’d be perfect for my studio! And this trinket box; I could use it for my watercolor tubes!”

My excitement soared as I explored each item, the day’s hard moments melting away amidst the old furniture and forgotten treasures.

“In typical you fashion, of course you notice the shiny things first. And whoa, whoa, whoa, you do remember you live with two other people, right? And your studio already takes up half the dining room. I’m cutting you off from any more large pieces before our apartment looks like it could make an episode of Hoarders."

I ignored her attempts to dissuade me from taking the mirror home and set it to the side. Rachel always poked fun at the way I loved the antique store, with its odd and old curiosities. There was always room for more old treasures in my book.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"I wish I could make you this excited about a guy, then we’d be talking... like say... Dr. Hotness."

"Ew, he’s my therapist. You might have the hots for him, and literally every guy you meet, but we can’t all be whores, ya know.” I had to match some blows today, mood or not, or else she’d never give up on her attempts to sway me to the dating pool.

“How dare you? I am not a whore; you take that back!” Rachel gasped and gripped her chest dramatically as she fell back into an old armchair.

“Rach, you go through men like they’re Skittles."

“So, I like to taste the rainbow; is that so bad? Besides, we can’t all be tight-asses like you. Some of us like to enjoy our time here on this big blue ball.” She sighed long and hard, examining her nails, trying not to make eye contact.

I stopped inspecting the antique brush I held and glanced at Rachel. "Hey, this tight ass is plenty happy in my studio, painting, thank you very much! Besides, I don’t like Skittles. And with the noises coming from your room, half the time I wonder if you’re really having much fun in there anyway. Do you have to bring them all back to our place?”

"Oh, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t saddle up and ride the bull named Theo if given the chance! No woman in her right mind would say no to that man. Those deep green eyes. The long mahogany hair, cut perfectly to highlight his jawline when he tucks it behind his ears. And can't forget his amazing ass," Rachel growled as her eyes widened. “Or what about the other guy? What’s his name, the receptionist?”

"Jakobi," I noted, feigning interest in continuing this conversation. I picked up a small teapot and opened the lid.

"Yes, Jakobi, he obviously has the hots for you from what you’ve said. Make a move and show the poor guy a good time. Working in a therapy office, he clearly needs it, and so do you.”

“It would be too awkward. He’s nice and all, and I never said I didn’t agree with you. Dr. Barnes is attractive, but again, he’s my therapist! There are rules against that—not that you follow rules, like, ever. Gods, why did we have to bump into him at the restaurant? All this could have been avoided if you’d never met him.

"Ohhhhh, so you do like him? Oh, shit, girl, get yourself some!”

“Shut up!” I groaned as I squeezed myself beside her on the armchair. “I’ll make you a deal. The next time I find a guy interesting, I’ll give it a shot for you. Okay? I’ll even let you give me a makeover. Deal?”

I declared the offer, knowing full well that Rachel would take the bait. Deep down, I wanted to date; I was just oblivious to how or where to begin.

“Full makeover, heels, and hair?”

“Full makeover.”

‘Jackpot. Savi one, Rachel zero.’

Her squeal echoed through the warehouse and the rant about men was finally over, or so I hoped.

“What the hell is all this racket over here? Rachel, how many times do I have to tell you to stop being so… you… and tone it down a notch or ten?” said a low, raspy voice behind a wall of stacked chairs. The tiniest old woman walked out carrying a clipboard.

“That’s exactly what I said! Hey, Sue! Come see this mirror; wouldn’t it be perfect in my studio?” I gave Rachel a mocking smirk, half-tempted to stick my tongue out in spite.

Sue wandered over to check it more closely. “That is a mighty fine mirror, in excellent shape too; it will fetch quite a fair price.” Sue cocked her head to gaze at me. “Out front.”

Rachel burst into laughter. "Oh, Savi, she got you good. Thanks for looking out, Sue.”

“I’m not doing it for you, toots; I’m doing it for my bottom line. Savi takes all the best pieces for herself to the point she’s almost paying to work here. And after her employee discount, I barely make half of what I could posting it up front.”

"Wait, we get an employee discount?” Rachel asked.

“You would know if you ever tried to buy anything, but you always call it old hunks of junk," Sue snapped back. “For someone who is so high up in today’s fashion, you have no sense of real style.”

This made me chuckle and Rachel groan. Another one of my favorite parts of working here is Sue and Rachel’s interactions. They treat seeing who can get the other riled up the most like a sport.

Sue was the closest thing to a mother figure in my life, always watching out for me and trying to help in any way, big or small. It was her motherly instinct toward me that landed me this job in the first place.

“Take the few items you found to your locker and we’ll talk about them after your shift. Then you two get back to work, please. There needs to be someone out there tending the front desk, and the shop needs a thorough dusting.” Sue turned to her office. “I’ll be back here going through our new inventory if you need me, but first I need to grab my measuring tape.”

“Isn’t part of the charm of antiques the dust? Doesn’t that come with the territory?” Rachel posed, giving her best effort to avoid manual labor.

“Remind me again why you work here?” Sue turned to Rachel. “Or better yet, remind me again why I put up with you working here?”

“’Cause you love me, and we’re a package deal.” I gave Rachel a sideways hug around her shoulders.

“Then get your pup in order, or it’s on your head, not hers.”

“Pup? One, I’m older than Savi." I nudged her in the side with my elbow. "Well, probably older, and two, if I’m a pup, then I would be at least akin to a tiny one you carry in your shoulder bag. Like a Yorkie or a teacup poodle or something; so, I would never get dirty or hurt."

“Go out there and dust before I put a shock collar on you for all that yapping," Sue called as she walked away, throwing a hand over her head to wave us off.

“Yikes, let’s go," I said, giggling, and pulled Rachel by the arm. We headed to the double doors. "Ah, one sec, almost forgot.” I broke contact and turned to my pile of stuff. "I'd better hide these like she said, or she’ll never let me snag them.”

"Ugh, you and your trinkets! Hurry, though; I’m not dusting all this junk by myself; I just got my nails done.”