York Apothecary

As I aproach the York Apothecary, I'm immediately struck by the overwhelming sensation of stepping into a time capsule. The store exudes an aura of antiquity, the kind that only comes from a place that has stood the test of time. The wooden sign, its paint chipped and weathered, creaks softly as a cool breeze blows in through the open door.

I enter the York Apothecary, the bell above the door jingling as I step into the well-lit space. I take a moment to scan the store, looking for any signs of Trent Walker, the man I'm here to confront. I'm determined to get some answers, even if it means resorting to underhanded tactics. As I walk towards the back, I notice the ornate wooden counter that dominates the rear of the sales area.

To my right, I see glass-fronted wooden cabinets that stretch from the floor to the ceiling. Each one is filled with rows of various bottles and jars, some with labels that seem to have faded over the years. Behind the counter, I see jars of brightly-colored candy and the iconic soda fountain, both reminiscent of a bygone era.

The shelves lining the walls display an array of over-the-counter medicines for common ailments, such as headaches, coughs, and indigestion. The familiar brands and logos are a reminder that this old-fashioned establishment still caters to the needs of the modern world while maintaining its unique charm.

I find Trent Walker standing behind a large desk, poring over some paperwork. He looks up, his expression guarded. "Trent, right?" I ask, smiling a little too eagerly. "I was told you could maybe help me out." I approach the counter. "I'm, uh, having a bit of trouble focusing lately, and I heard that you were the man to see," I say, feigning innocence.

My tone is a perfect mix of desperation and charm, hoping to gain his trust and divert his suspicions. As I wait for his response, I casually scan the room, taking note of the surroundings and any potential escape routes in case he runs. I have nothing to worry about, however. Exerting a bit of my charm, he quickly capitulates.

He nods, looking me up and down, as if memorizing every detail of my appearance. "Well, I might be able to help you out. I have a break coming up. Meet me out back in about fifteen minutes." Trent's voice cracks, and his eyes never leave my face. A smile creeps onto my lips as I thank him, my gaze locked with his. The air between us crackles with tension, something electrifying and dangerous.

I thank Trent, winking, and head out the front door. I take a walk around the block, trying to decide how I want to play this; the easy way, or the hard way. I circle around to the back of the drugstore and lean against a wall, waiting. By the time he comes out the back door, I have made my decision.