I come back from the flea market, cheerful. I found a lot of stuff this morning. A slightly strange compass, two old oil lamps, small canvas bags for drying herbs, a box full of old bottles, and a small twisted sword made by dwarves.

I go home whistling, putting away my finds. The old lamps will go to the workshop, the bags in the pantry, the sword I'll see what I can get out of it, the compass is just funny. And the box of bottles, I can use them to fill the shelves, in the kitchen. I take them out humming, they are dirty. At random, I blow the dust off one of the bottles, and I fall into silence. It's not empty.

I tilt my head, observing the little pixie inside. She looks like she's been stuck in this glass prison for a while. I spin the bottle, curious.

"Well then. Hey there."