The smell hit him first—a wave of dry paper, old tobacco, and cedar. For the next three hours, Arthur was a machine of commerce. He sorted, cataloged, and priced.
Arthur sat back on his stool. The silence of the alleyway pressed against the back door. He looked at the forty drawers, realizing there were thousands of vials.
The wrap fell away with a heavy, wet slither, revealing a solid block of wooden filing drawers. It was an old apothecary or specimens cabinet, made of dark, dense mahogany, standing five feet tall. It had forty small drawers, each fitted with a tarnished brass label holder. buy wholesale antiques
Arthur walked among the stacked wooden pallets. They were shrink-wrapped in thick, yellowing plastic, looking like giant, rectangular cocoons. Through the hazy film, he could see the dark spines of leather books, the curved brass necks of Victorian microscopes, and the cold, unblinking eyes of taxidermied birds.
Written in iron gall ink, in a microscopic, beautiful hand, was a date and a name: October 14, 1884. The laughter of Alice M. upon seeing the sea for the first time. The smell hit him first—a wave of dry
Arthur's heart did a small, familiar skip. This piece alone, once cleaned and waxed, was worth more than he had paid for the entire truckload. It was the jackpot that made wholesale buying a drug.
He pulled another. June 3, 1891. The specific shade of blue of the sky over Marseille before the thunderstorm. Arthur sat back on his stool
"Got a fresh pick from an estate in Vermont," Silas said, wiping his hands on a rag that was darker than the floor. He pointed a heavy thumb toward the back of the dim warehouse. "A whole library and the contents of a private museum. The family just wanted the land cleared. I’m not breaking it up, Arthur. Take the lot or leave it."
ThePornDude