antique store

We were in a vast antique store, wandering around, just before closing time. The woman who owned the store seemed keen to lock up and leave, but B had just spotted an elegant chest of drawers that she quite liked. In fact, she seemed so taken with the small cabinet that I wanted to buy it for her. I went to fetch the woman to ask her the price. She seemed a little put out. When we returned to the spot where the drawers had been, I could no longer recognise which of the furniture items it was. I called to B and she pointed out a set of drawers that, to my surprise, looked little like the drawers she had liked earlier. The woman told me the price and I followed her to the counter to pay, the drawers, now quite small, in tow. By the time I reached the counter, the drawers had transformed into a big dream catcher made from black horse hair. I looked at it, wondering why we were buying a dream catcher, but placed it on the counter and rummaged through my bag to find my purse. I couldn't find it and, again, the woman seemed to be losing patience. I said to her, jokingly, that I didn't like her either, that from the moment I saw her, I thought her to be disgusting. She looked at me and laughed and, instantly, we liked one another after all. During this time, although she wanted to shut the doors and close for the day, people kept wandering in, and I knew that the sooner B and I were gone, the sooner the woman could go home. I went to find B to see if she had my purse. I found her outside the store, leaning up against a wall, talked to a woman who we both know. Without saying hello to the woman, I interrupted them and asked for my purse, urgent to pay for the goods so that the woman could lock up and leave. I was aware that I was being a little rude. On the way back inside, walking up the stairs, I bumped into a young woman. She turned around and it was my dear friend A. We were so surprised to see one another, in an antique store in the middle of nowhere.