I'd never given much thought on the subject of love. Sure, it's something I want to believe in—and it does exist—but it only lasts for a select few. I suppose most little girls dreamt of their future husbands and having the fairytale love they strive for, but I didn't have that luxury. My parents separated whilst I was still very young—barely six years old. It was an event that impacted my views greatly. It's not that I didn't believe in love, but that I didn't believe I would find it.

Who knew a simple trip to the thrift shop would result in bringing home a spirit attached to the very object that caught my eyes?

Who knew it would be a spirit that I would inevitably fall in love with? Oh, how cruel life could be.

It's no secret that I love all things vintage. The moment I stepped into the thrift shop, I was overcome with vellichor. In a far corner, I could hear aged book pages being flipped through steadily. I was once deemed unusual for being able to differentiate the condition of a book simply by hearing the sound the pages made.

I browsed through the vinyl albums for a bit, taking in the environment before me every now and then. It was then a gleam caught my eye from across the room. The sun beams' angle had changed, shining through the windows, bouncing off the very item that would change my life forever.

It was a display of miscellaneous items collected through the years that I approached. My fingers traced the engraving on the bronze cover, wondering who this person could have been.

W.S.S.H.

An interesting set of initials, they were, to say the least. I felt so drawn to the beautiful timepiece; I had already admitted defeat in my mind. There was no way I could leave here without it.

As soon as I wrapped my fingers around the cool bronze finish of the pocket watch, a spine-tingling chill came over me. Despite the circumstances, I felt compelled to purchase the antique.

I decided to walk home rather than take a cab, as it was a beautiful autumn day. I took in the smell of the crisp air and the sound of dead leaves crunching beneath my feet. It was my favourite season, after all.

When I reached my flat, 221B, turning the doorknob, I heard a faint whisper in my ear. It sounded like a man's voice; baritone, smooth as whiskey. All I heard him say was one word that turned my world upside down—my name.

Author's Note: This is my first serious story in first person POV, so please tell me if you like the new style!