Malcolm approached the door to the shop and checked the address on the card his optometrist had given him.
He walked into the small shop and saw that it was empty. Just four white walls. “Hello?” he said. Getting no response, he started to leave the empty shop.
“Malcolm, your new glasses are ready.”
Startled, Malcolm turned around to see a man holding a translucent glass bust, a pair of wire-framed spectacles mounted on the bridge of its nose. “Try them on,” he said. Reaching for the glasses, Malcolm noticed that the face on the bust resembled his own.
Malcolm removed the glasses from the bust and put them on. The fit was perfect and his vision was perfectly corrected. But most remarkable was that the room was no longer empty. There were paintings on the walls, a few small, round tables and chairs like those one might find in a café, with people sitting around them drinking coffee and quietly talking.
“I don’t understand,” Malcolm said, but the man with the bust was gone.
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Photo credit: ENISA.