The Hollow Men

Fey sat on her stool behind the counter that had the cash register facing her. Her shop, The Wrath, was lit and warmed by the help of a small space heater. The overhead lights were hanging ones with metal bowl-looking coverings that cast the light under where they were in round pools upon the floor. There were two lava lamp lights around the world too. One purple and red, and one green and blue. Her shop was simple, small, two stories. The front room was where the shop was. In it there was shelving unit near the door. It held crystal ball stands, candle holders, incense burners (metal, wood, hanging, stick, cone), both harmless incense and harmless candles. These things were, in Fey's opinion, safe to let someone steal, it was the contents in the glass counters that lined two walls, and the one that prevented people from going to the back room without her that needed to be guarded. In these cases she kept articles of the curio and the occult, all made for good magic, but, like people, these things could be corrupted. The cases held tarot cards, candles and incense specific for certain spells, certain herbs (some of which were poisonous), athames, crystal balls, and various other objects with which one could do harm with.
While Fey wasn't particularly busy at any point in time, she did have some loyal customers who came by, some from Washington Heights, others from other towns. They came for her handmade soaps, incense, and candles. Many-a-day Fey would sit with a small portable oven heating wax to make candles, making soap, or crushing and mixing various herbs and spices for her incense. Rolling the cone incense in her hand, Fey felt at peace. This small simple job, it was amazing how centering it was. All day, this is what she did. Today she was making daimiana incense. If people were going to try to get high, they might as well do so on a legal herb that wasn't quite as powerful as the elusive Mary Jane. Besides, you would have to burn a lot of incense to get high off of daimiana in the incense form. That was just how it was. Not that fey judged people who smoked daimiana, or tried to use the incense for their own purposes. She herself burnt the incense, but only in order to relax. It was a wonderful relaxant.

In, out, in, out all day long. Not a lot of people, but a few. At one point, an inibriated man stumbled into the shop. He looked around and approached the counter. Fey had just lit a cone of daimiana incense. The man looked at her.
"I need to find mmgmgmmm.."
"Sorry, I couldn't catch that last bit of what you said."
"I need to find someone." Just like that. The polite smile Fey had carefully been supporting faded, like everything else. Her world went black.

Fey woke up in the back room of the shop. When she sat up Finicky ran over to her from where he had been lying. Fey pet him and rubbed her head.
"oh dear. It has been a while since a black out like that." They used to happen more frequently Fey reminised. Originally she had thought that they were caused by some sort of health issue; however, she'd realized eventually that the memories lost were very person specific, so Fey just assumed what ever happend didn't effect her and therefor had no reason to know what happend.
She blew the candle next to her out.
"Come on Finicky, time to close shop." Fey and Finicky went to the front. Looking down at the counter, she saw a ten dollar bill on the counter. She picked it up. Getting her bag, Fey and Finicky walked to the door. She stopped. Frozen. It was dark. Fey's heart filled with terror and she began to panic within her mind. What should I do? Maybe I could stay here tonight. Finicky whined beside Fey, beckoning her to the darkness beyond. He wants to be fed. We have no food here! Fey knew that she had to go back to the appartment, she didn't want to cause the poor animal pain, lord knew he'd sufferd enough before she'd found him.
"O.k Finiy, we'll go home, but you have to hurry you know." She took a deep breath. When she reached the door, she prepared as much as she could. She opened the door and locked it so that when she closed it it couldn't be opened again. One foot in, one foot out Fey reached for the light switch. Making sure that Finicky was outside she flicked the switch and stood for a moment in complete darkness. Her heart sped up. She shut the door tight and ran. Down the street. It was just a short distance and she walked it every day. But here, now, it seemed the greatest distance in the world. She reached the corner and turned to the left. There were the doors. Something fell out of her bag, but that didn't matter. Right now she had to outrun the blackness that surrounded her. She held the door open for Finicky and ran into the dimly lit lobby. Beyond the lobby was her hall. At her door she calmed slightly, pulled her keys out and opened the door. SLAM!!!! Fey quickly locked the door and slid down to the floor with her back to the door. Finicky came up and licked her face, sweetly reminding her as to why they had to come home.
"O.k, o.k let's eat." As she walked to the kitchen, still upset, Fey looked into her bag. Her book of poetry had fallen out. She had been collecting poetry in it for over three years. The loss of the book was as if a friend had died, but it was gone. Here at Washington Heights what got lost stayed lost.