It was sunny when you left home, so you didn’t take an umbrella. An hour later, you’re caught in a torrential downpour. You run into the first store you can find — it happens to be a dark, slightly shabby antique store, full of old artifacts, books, and dust. The shop’s ancient proprietor walks out of the back room to greet you. Tell us what happens next!
“Where did this rain come from?” the handsome stranger asked me. “The sky!” I replied in my best smartass tone. I’m sure I looked like a drowned overweight old gray rat-why was this guy being so nice? What was it that he wanted? Turns out he was the store owner’s son who was thinking of turning the little shop into a “brand new wifi coffee shop like the ones in the big cites!” By this time the rain had stopped and the sun was coming out (I was waiting for him to ask me where the sun came from). I proceeded to bid him farewell and make my way down the street, but he had me thinking – why is it people want to erase history? Why do people think old things (like myself) are useless and pieces of junk without any character?