There was a carved pipe collection, a real rabbit's foot brooch (with a diamond set at the top); a box of christening mugs, masonic memorabilia, exonumia, old maps; vellum books and assorted pairs of roller skates. Amongst this snapshot of history the smell bespoke its age - along with the frankfurter and cigarette aromas that wafted through from the back room - from which a horse race being called through a tin can, could be heard from the vintage radio.
Jobe fingered the gun in his pocket nervously. It felt cold and uncomfortable and the metal made his fingers ache. He was beginning to wonder if he should just turn around and go back out again.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
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