Berries and Greed

I glanced up at the shop sign. Mother Mila Foundation. Recognition bloomed as I stood on my tiptoes to peer over the window display into the store, seeing rails of clothing and shelves of random assorted items. I’d read about Mother Mila at the compound. She’d been one of the demiurgus who led the first group to the surface so long ago, negotiating with humans for peaceful co-existence between the species. A charity had been set up in her honour at the beginning of the twentieth century, helping new migrating demiurgus transition to surface life. It was odd to think that there were still demiurgus living far below us, many of them never venturing above ground. I wondered how different they were from people like Greid who’d been born and raised up here.

This must be a thrift store for the charity. I hesitated on the sidewalk, clutching the two coffee cups, then decided to go in. We got paid every two weeks at the bar, so I’d received my first paycheque and had spent hardly any of it, despite how excited I’d been to see it appear in my bank account. Greid had helped me set up contactless payments on my phone, but I wasn’t sure if a thrift store would only take cash.

Not that I was planning on buying anything. I was just interested to look around and see what the well-off residents of the Cimmerian District decided to donate. Maybe this could be where I brought all the stuff Greid didn’t want from his Room of Shame. Although, I had noticed the pile of boxes shoved into the corner of his room when I’d been leaving it yesterday. I was pretty sure he’d snuck more things down since we’d gone through them.

The store was empty when I went in save for an elderly demiurgus lady browsing the bookshelves at the very back, and the young demiurgus with multicoloured hair and several facial piercings behind the cash register.

The latter looked up from her phone to give me a beaming smile. “Good morning!”

“Morning.” I smiled back, awkwardly clutching the two coffee cups as I wandered over to the nearest clothing rail.

“Do you want to leave your drinks on the counter while you look around?”

I gave the store attendant another grateful smile as I approached. “That’d be great, thanks.”

“No problem. Let me know if you need any help.”

“I will. Thanks.”

After setting down the cups, I migrated toward the big wall of random items, which had been organised by category. There were piles of dated crockery sets, a selection of brightly coloured kids’ toys, clusters of glass and ceramic vases, neatly stacked vintage records and Mother Mila Foundation-branded candles with scents like ‘honey-drenched dirt’ and ‘night-blooming jasmine and bergamot’.

I walked slowly along the shelves, stopping when I came to a row of demiurgus-made ornaments and knickknacks. Some of them looked like the ones dotted everywhere in the house—small, brightly coloured pieces of glass that had been expertly twisted together to make unusual shapes.

But tucked right at the back were a few things that looked different. Carefully picking one up, I cradled it gently because it seemed delicate and fragile. It was a clump of what looked like pink oyster mushrooms made of opaque glass, with a jagged cluster of pale blue, milky white and lilac crystals around the base.

I stared at it in fascination, peering closer. It was expertly crafted, the petal-like caps organic in shape, each gill delicate and paper-thin. Spotting a tiny white sticker on the base, I blinked at the price. It was only a few dollars.

It was beautiful and looked so well-made. Sure, it was a little kitsch, but I loved it. And I was going to buy it.

A tiny thrill raced through me as I reached back for the other mushroom-looking ornament on the shelf. Maybe it was silly to be so excited about buying knickknacks, but these would be the first tangible items I’d bought myself—things to keep, not just coffee or food. I could put them on the dresser in my room. I could ask Greid if there were any other thrift stores in the area that might have more. Maybe there were all different kinds.

The other one for sale was a clump of long, tapered stalks with fat bases and domed caps in a vibrant purple. This one had a single shard of pale yellow crystal to steady the base, chunky and striated with white and amber.

I grinned, carrying them over to the register and asking the friendly attendant if I could leave them with my coffee cups while I kept looking around.

When I left the shop twenty minutes later, there was a bulging plastic bag hooked over my arm. I hurried home clutching our lukewarm coffees, and when I got into the house, the first thing I did after shedding my coat and boots was put the cups in the microwave to heat up.

I was pretty sure Greid wasn’t up yet, but I was too excited to show him what I’d bought, so I carried the bag and our coffees to his bedroom door and knocked with my elbow. “Greid?”

I heard the rustle of fabric, followed by his sleep-rough voice calling out, “Come in.”