The smell filled his nostrils as he entered the shop. It was a musty smell. One that many people found repulsive, but Damian Harris found invigorating. Removing the keys from the lock, he flipped the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’, and began turning on the lights.

Damian was a manager, of sorts, of a small antique shop in downtown Queens Falls. Every day during the summer he came to the shop at eight o’clock and opened it for the day. After that he worked as the cashier and clerk until five o’clock when the shop closed.

Once all the lights were on in the cluttered shop, Damian unlocked the register and counted out the starting amount of his drawer and marked it in a ledger hidden beside the counter.

Leaning back on the stool in front of the register Damian yawned. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and was glad that today promised to be a slow one, with heavy rain and thunder storms forecast all afternoon.

Picking up his book which he had left on the counter the day before he began to read. It was a biography on FDR, and he had been looking forward to finishing it today, but he kept nodding off. After almost toppling off the stool, he elected to walk the shop for a while, and see if Mr. Peirce, the owner, had bought anything new.

He was examining an old radio when he heard a crash of thunder outside, followed by the patter of rain on the roof which rose in crescendo to a dull roar.

The jingle of the bell on the shop door made Damian jump. Leaving the radio he made his way to the front of the shop, where a single girl had just entered. He recognized her; Loretta Lewis, a very attractive, and very popular girl from his high school English Class.

She was soaking wet and seemed to have run down the street looking for an open shop in which to take shelter. As he was sure she was just taking shelter from the storm, Damian paid her little attention, only saying that the storm should pass soon.

There was silence for a few more minutes, interrupted only by the pounding of the rain. He resumed reading his book, but he was also stealing furtive looks at Loretta. He had spoken to her a couple times, but Damian was not in the same social circles as her. On top of that, he had a very low opinion of her intelligence. She was always the one who had to ask the dumb questions, and it annoyed him.
“I didn’t know you worked here Damian,” said Loretta, somewhat awkwardly.
“Yeah, I’ve worked here for about two years now.”
“Do you like it? I mean, it seems like it would be pretty boring sitting in a shop full of junk all day,” said Loretta with a forced laugh.
“I don’t see it as junk,” said Damian coldly, not returning her smile.

Loretta turned away from him gazing out the glass door at the pounding rain. There was silence for a long time. Damian hated when people called this stuff junk. It was a piece of the past. History you could hold in the palm of your hand. People grew old and died, but the stuff remained to tell the story. It was like a voice whispering in your ear. All you had to do was listen.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to that it’s all junk,” said Loretta again breaking the silence.
“I don’t think any of its junk.”
“Come on,” said Loretta looking at him in disbelief, “a lot of its just stuff that should be tossed!”
“But these things aren’t just pieces of…stuff. They’re people and stories.”

The two sat looking at each other for a moment. Not sure why he was doing it Damian grabbed the keys to the display cases, and walking around the counter made his way over to the one next to Loretta. Unlocking it, Damian removed a small flat box from the bottom shelf and handed it to Loretta.

Looking uncertain Loretta opened the box. Inside the padded case was a medal.
“What is it?”
“Silver Star from WWII.”
“Oh…ok,” said Loretta holding the box out to Damian to give it back.
“Turn it over.”
“What?”
“Read the inscription on the back.”

Squinting, Loretta read the tiny lettering.
“Captain R.J. Howard,” said Loretta looking up.

Damian walked to the counter and after a moment returned with a folder. From which he pulled a small black and white picture of a handsome uniformed Army Officer.
“Robert J. Howard, 8th Infantry, given the Silver Star for Heroism under fire at the Battle of the Bulge. That Silver Star as a matter of fact,” said Damian motioning to the medal in her hand with the photo. “Is that something we should ‘toss’?”
“No…I guess you’re right about that, but some of this other stuff, I mean, come on, let’s be real here,” said Loretta handing the medal back.
“Like what,” asked Damian replacing the medal in the case.
“Like…like, I don’t know, this radio. Who needs or wants an old radio,” exclaimed Loretta pointing at the radio he had been examining earlier.

Damian had his answer ready.
“This is a Midwest DD-18 radio set, manufactured in 1936 at the height of the depression. This was not a time of hope in our country. Franklin Roosevelt was President and he knew that people needed hope. He started a series of radio addresses called ‘fireside chats.’ Once a week he came over the radio. His first one was on…I forget actually…do you know? Never mind you hate history, you wouldn’t know. Anyway, once a week he came on the radio and all he did was reassure the people. He told them, in terms they could understand, what he was trying to do.”
“So what does this have to do with this radio,” asked Loretta in a bored tone.
“It was made in 1936. This was how people got their news,” he said motioning to the radio. “This was where they went for hope. Franklin Roosevelt’s voice echoed out of this ‘piece of junk,’” said Damian

Loretta looked at the radio for a moment. She didn’t seem completely convinced, but she seemed to look upon the artifact with new found respect. She looked at him intently, as if she was seeing him for the first time.

Damian picked up an old yearbook from 1958 and opened it to the front cover and pointed to the name scrawled inside. Betsy Foye. He pulled an old coat from a rack, and removed the cigarette lighter from the inside pocket and pointed to the engraved initials.
“You see? These are people’s stories. These are our last links to the past, and we can’t let them go.”
“You really care about this stuff don’t you,” said Loretta quietly.
“Yeah, I know, I’m the history geek,” said Damian exasperatedly.
“I’m not making fun of you,” said Loretta quickly, “I’m just saying.”
“Well…yes, yes I do. I care about the stories. Each of these items,” he said motioning to the shops contents, “has a story. Each piece is whispering its story. You just have to listen,” he finished with a bemused smile.

Loretta smiled back. He didn’t know why it had just occurred to him, but Loretta seemed so different outside of school. She seemed smarter somehow.

Loretta and he just gazed at each other for a long moment. She was about to say something when the bell over the door rang and a pair of giggling teenage girls came into the shop.
“Loretta,” exclaimed one of the girls loudly, “where have you been, I thought you were at that shop just down the street?”
“Oh, I was, but the stuff in there was just not me so I was on my way over to you guys when I got caught in the rain,” said Loretta excitedly.

Damian, blinked in surprise. Her whole demeanor had changed back to the Loretta he knew from school in the blink of an eye.
“Oh, I was going to say, why you would come in here,” said the second girl laughing “I mean, it’s just a bunch of smelly old junk!”
“It’s not all…” began Loretta, trailing off.
“What,” asked the first girl absent mindedly, as she typed furiously on her phone.
“I was just saying…nothing,” said Loretta glancing at Damian.
“Anyway, the rains stopped and I’ve been dying to check out that new place just down the street,” said the girl, still typing furiously as she and the other girl made their way through the door.

Loretta was the last to leave. She stopped at the door and looked at Damian.
“Well…I’ll see you in school then,” she said with a forced smile.
“Yep, I’ll be there,” he said, returning the smile.
She made to leave, but stopped again.
“March 12, 1933.”
“What,” asked Damian in shock.
“The date of FDR’s first ‘fireside chat.’ He explained why he had closed all the banks for an extended holiday,” said Loretta, smiling.

Damian Smiled broadly at her, shaking his head in disbelief. She returned the smile. With a final nervous laugh she let the door swing shut behind her as she ran to catch up with her friends.