I was bleeding the first time I saw the Japanese mirror. I had been cleaning the side counter in Mr. Colella’s Curio Shoppe, and an unexpected piece of metal had sliced open my fingertip.
Crying out in rage, I threw my rag to the counter, stuck my bleeding finger into my mouth and stamped my foot. I probably would have stamped again, except I noticed Mr. Colella giving me a warning stare.
I took a deep breath and tried to get my temper under control. I knew I might lose my job if I didn’t watch myself, and I didn’t want that to happen. Not only did I really need the money, I actually liked working with the strange junk the old man kept in his antique shop.
I took my finger from my mouth to look at the cut. It went straight across my fingertip. And it hurt like crazy. All those nerves so close to the surface, I guess.
Scanning the countertop, I found what had snagged me — the top of a screw Mr. Colella had used to make a repair and hadn’t wound deeply enough into the wood.
I was still hunting for a Band-aid when Mr. Colella shouted, “Jonathan, come here. I need your help.”
Pressing thumb against fingertip to stem the bleeding, I went to the back room.
