Mihkul muttered under his breath. The blasted weather report called for sun all day and he was foolish enough to leave his umbrella at home. Turning up his collar he huddled underneath the awning of the small antique shop. Perhaps it will pass quickly, he thought.<br/><br/>He peered through the storefront window. There was a young man inside and an elderly woman. Perhaps this was Gretchen, the store owner. The sign said it was open so, being curious, he stepped in. The shelves were filled with an assortment of antiques and what-nots that he couldn't even recognize. A colonial bedwarmer.A wooden butter churn. This was truly a picker's paradise.