When he entered the shop, he was immediately struck by the incredible array of items, all haphazardly resting in random piles before him. The man sighed heavily. While he was by no means a neat freak, he had an intense dislike for clutter, as it symbolized an impediment to efficiency. He had a momentary impulse to leave the shop, but he remembered the picture in the window, and stepped forward to speak to the shopkeeper who sat behind the counter that occupied the center of the room.
The shopkeeper seemed not to exist of this world. His upper body was visible behind the countertop, and from what the man could see, the shopkeeper seemed to be composed entirely of perfect circles. He shifted his wireless round glasses atop his perfectly round nose and scratched at the tuft of hair that circled his perfectly round head. He sighed deeply, his perfectly round torso expanding slightly as he mooned over the old starlet who grinned at him from the pages of the old movie magazine that was spread before him. He looked up as the man approached.
"That picture in the window? The one of Spencer Tracy?" the man said. "I wondered if you had any more like it."
The shopkeeper raised a pudgy, circular hand and spoke softly. "Let me stop you right there, my friend," he said. "I can't answer any questions about my stock." He noted that irritated look that spread over the man's face and continued softly. "I'm not trying to be difficult, you understand. It's just that I have so many items coming in and going out that it's simply impossible to keep track of what's here at any given moment. Besides, I find that when a person comes in looking for one certain thing, they often pass up some real treasures. So, if you have the time and if you crave a little adventure, I invite you to prowl around. You never know what you might find." His spiel delivered, he turned back to the upturned face of the starlet, long forgotten by all but himself.
The man sighed. He looked around the shop. He had never seen so many things crammed into such a small space. Again, he considered leaving, but the words of the shopkeep ran through his mind. Treasure. Adventure. He laughed to himself. Treasure and adventure had always eluded him, and he had no expectations that today would be any different. But his logical nature kept him from exiting the small shop. If he couldn't find anything, he could always strike a deal for the Spencer Tracy picture that hung in the window. It really was a striking photo. His mind made up, the man turned and began to rummage through the array of casually strewn stock.
He had no idea how long he had picked through the collection of childhood toys, old jewelry, magazines and knick knacks. He took no notice of the other patrons who entered the shop. He was happily lost in a world of unexpected delights. He had seen some of these items before, or at least he had seen items of a nature that was so similar that the differences were immaterial. Here, however, each thing seemed special. Without the pressure of finding a specific thing he could concentrate on what made each good unique, rather than focus on why each thing wasn't "correct".
The stock was truly magnificent, but nothing spoke to him in any individual way. He was resigned to the fact that he would leave empty handed when his foot kicked something beneath one of the display tables. The man heard the small soft rasping of metal as the item slid along the floor, and he bent down to see what he had disturbed. His breath suddenly stopped, and the world swam before his eyes.His reverie was broken by the voice of the shopkeeper who now knelt beside him. The man turned to face him, and he spoke in a soft, awed voice.
"Do you know what you have here? Do you know how valuable this is?"
The shopkeeper smiled softly. "Well, I couldn't possibly have any idea of how valuable any of these things are. To me, an object might be worth a few cents, but to someone else, it might be priceless. I just put a fair price on them, and if I lose a little money on an object, well, that's the cost of doing business, I guess. Shall I wrap that up for you?"
The man shook his head reluctantly. "This can't be real," he said softly. The shopkeeper looked at him quizzically. "Well, it looks real enough to me," he said. "What exactly leads you to believe that it's some sort of apparition?"
The man sighed deeply, still shaking his head with sorrow. "People have been looking for this for decades. It doesn't make any sense. Why would it be here, and why would I find it? I mean, who am I? I'm just a guy, I'm not supposed to find things like this."
The shopkeeper looked deeply into the man's eyes and spoke with a tenderness and wisdom that the man had never heard before. "Do you know the difference between the men who find great treasures and the men who pass them by?" The man shook his head. "It's simple. The men who find great treasures never ask themselves if they are worthy. They know that every man is just as worthy as the next, no matter what the treasure. The folks who keep worrying about worthiness let everything pass them by. You think about that, and I'll be over at the counter when you've made up your mind."
That night the man sat for a time, staring at his treasure from its perch by his bed. He reflected on how often he had convinced himself that he wasn't good enough to speak to an attractive woman. He thought about how many times he had convinced himself to stay in the job that he so desperately hated because he wasn't good enough to find anything better. He thought of how sad he often was, and how he had accepted it because he didn't believe he deserved anything more from his life. Most of all, he thought of what the old shopkeeper had said. As he drifted off to sleep, he knew that he had been given a valuable gift, but more importantly, he knew that he was ready to accept it.
That night, he slept peacefully. When he rose the next morning, he drafted his letter of resignation. He strode into the office of his boss and quit without ceremony or explanation. On his way past the front desk, he asked the receptionist to join him for dinner that evening, and he smiled serenly when she agreed.
