A small bell tinkled as I opened the door to the optical shop. It was a small store but cozy rather than cramped. I closed the door and the sound of grinding glass mixed with the tones of Mozart coming from an old phonograph in the corner.
“Hello?” I asked as I looked around. The floor creaked slightly as I stepped toward the counter.
“Be right with ya!” The voice was as creaky as the floor but had a warmth to it.
An elderly man walked out from the back holding a glass lens in his hands; it flashed and sparkled as he examined it under a lamp. He seemed pleased with it as he turned to me. His face matched his voice perfectly; his smile was friendly but had a sly edge to it.
“I need a pair of glasses.” I handed him my prescription but he waved me away and shook his head.
“You won’t be needing that for what you came here for.” He smiled as he rubbed the glass in a white towel.
“Excuse me?”
“Eyes don’t need silly bits of paper to see,” he said as he held the lens up to the light, “What you need is this.”