Welcome! I hope you feel soothed by my gorgeous antique decor, calming music, and candle burning on the counter. All of my choices are carefully designed to ensure you never find out about the bugs.

Here, you will receive a Normal Shopping Experience. But at any given moment, you are mere inches from uncovering the truth: this place is absolutely teeming with bugs. You'll notice I keep my shelves well-stocked. This is because ample merchandise provides a bigger buffer between you and the bugs.

When you enter my shop, you think, “I hope this isn't too awkward since it's just me and the shop owner.” But friend, we are far from alone. We share this space with a legion of bugs. The sheer number of them makes it feel like a child came in here, spilled out an entire terrarium, and was so delighted by the destructive act that he came back to spill out a whole new terrarium every day for a thousand years.

If you ever come in with your partner in tow, they are welcome to take a seat while you shop. But if they were to lift up a couch cushion in my charming seating area, or rifle too vigorously through the accessories in that wooden chest, they would be exposed to a hidden world of so many bugs. Many are alive. Many are not.

Are you looking for anything particular today, or just browsing?

The bugs used to cause me distress, but after countless hours with them, I have made peace with the niche they've carved out in my store—both figuratively, and literally when it comes to the nesting hole they've burrowed behind the greeting cards. At this point, I'm just determined to keep the bugs hidden. With each breeding cycle, this proves more and more difficult.

What kind of bugs are they? I have no idea. I only know that they are repulsive.

How many bugs? I don't dare to count them one by one.

The quantity of bugs is better represented as “by the handful.” Many handfuls of bugs walk in our midst.

They are here, and they are plentiful, but they are my little secret.

With you, I will speak only of the 15% Off Sale. That is all that concerns you at the moment.

The bugs and I have reached an understanding. I do not want to deal with them, and they mostly just emerge at night. Or when it's really humid. Or when people leave food in the trash, and by people I mean me, because I'm the only person who works here, and I bring a tub of mac n cheese for lunch every day but only consume a third of it and throw the rest out and get too scared to bring the trash to the dumpster at night because I'm afraid of mice. You see, there are mice in the dumpsters. And, as discussed, there are bugs in here.

Mice in the dumpsters and bugs in here. Mice in the dumpsters, bugs in here. Mice in the–

When I see you swat a bug off your arm while you shop, I pretend not to see. Instead I compliment your bracelet and point out my vintage jewelry for sale. When you ask me if I noticed the bug, I feign ignorance. But I saw it. Of course I did. I know all about the bugs. I know their rhythms, their social hierarchies, their likes and dislikes. I can predict where they will congregate to feed and mate. I know where the bugs dwell in the winter and where they dwell in the summer. I know that your choice of perfume today has not helped your chances of remaining bug-free while you shop in my store.

We gift wrap free of charge! Let me distract you with this small kindness.

When it comes to the bugs, I operate on a need-to-know basis. Some people, I've found, possess an aversion. On the other hand, if someone were to come into my store who clearly enjoys bugs, I still wouldn't reveal the truth about the ones that live here. Because that kind of person sounds annoying and I wouldn't want them hanging around my shop. They would probably tell all their bug-loving friends about striking gold in here, then they would all flock to marvel at my giant bug habitat which doubles as a store, and none of them would buy anything and they'd only be here for the bugs. I've already surrendered so much of my life to the bugs; I don't need them stealing my thunder.

Each day, I clock in, and I clock out. Alongside me, the bugs crawl in, and the bugs crawl out. More in than out. Mostly in.

The bugs are overwhelming, but I do not speak of them. I am exhausted from keeping their secret. Perhaps one of these days I will burst and everyone will know the truth, just like that bug nest burst while I was dusting one time, and I became immersed in larvae. The nightmares stopped last year, but now that I've invoked the larvae incident, I worry they will return.

For now, I will stand here, my face placid, strategically placed between you and the bugs.

Can I get you a fitting room?

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