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The Charity Benefit (3) - Now is as good of a time as any to examine one of the many tables displaying items for the auction. The table is full of donations, both new and old, and something catches your eye. It’s only when you get closer to the item that you have some sort of fierce, emotional response. It might be nostalgia or happiness, or sadness, or fear, or anger--any emotion is possible. There doesn’t seem to be any reason to feel this way; the item can be any that you choose. Though the emotion doesn’t linger for long, there’s no clear reason as to why it inspired such feelings. Is the item worth bidding on? Or running away from?
Gigi hadn’t dressed for a ball, she wasn’t planning to stay, but she was a sucker for a good cause. She didn’t have much in her pockets, but enough to drive up the bids on one or two things at the auction tables, just to make sure the charity benefit was benefitting as much as possible. The room was already bustling by the time she arrived (later than she’d planned, but who was counting). The auction tables were laden with donations, and crowded with bidders. Gigi joined the throng, letting herself get swept from table to table by the push and pull of other bidders, sometimes anchoring herself at a table to take a closer look at an item, or adding a small bid of her own to the auction sheet. It didn’t matter if she was outbid, but there was a flutter of excitement every time, especially when the bids were low, that she might have a chance.
She popped her name down against a gift basket of kitchen goodies, and drifted across to the next table, an array of antiques where the crowd was more sparse, and some of the sheets had no bids at all. That was too bad, she thought. Maybe the antique-y crowd would come out later in the evening.
A strange device caught her eye, a bright pinkish-orange metal thing on tripod legs. It looked to her like a cross between an urn and a gumball machine, with a little old-fashioned spout on one side, presumably for dispensing whatever was supposed to be inside.
Curious, Gigi pulled the auction sheet towards her. It was a “Copper Coffee Machine, circa 1900s (still functional)”. No bids yet. Kind of an old-fashioned percolator, then, she assumed. It wasn’t a particularly useful way to make coffee. If you didn’t start with espresso, what was the point?
Still, she leaned in to look closer at the strange antique.
Like steam, a wave of rolling, powerful longing overcame her, an emotion that brought a smile to her lips and tears to her eyes at the same time. There was no reason. No vision, no memory. Just feeling, so intense it tightened her chest, and she had to swallow to keep back sudden tears. It felt… like seeing a photo of an old friend you’d lost. Happy, but so, so sad. But she’d never seen a coffee pot like it in person before. Not here in her real life, and not in the few memories she’d slipped into on her asteroid. There was no reason for the nostalgia. But there it was, so powerful she had to turn away.
She thought of the disappearing building, the mysterious figure trying to draw her in, so certain, so encouraging. And now this. She should be suspicious, but the longing feeling superseded everything else.
Then as quickly as it came, the feeling faded, leaving Gigi staring at the device in confusion. It almost felt wrong to leave it, but she had no choice. It wasn’t hers, probably never would be. Was that why it made her so sad?
It would look cool in a coffee shop. A talking point.
She probably couldn’t afford it, but it was for charity after all. Hand still shaking in reaction, Gigi picked up the pen and wrote her bid on the sheet. Just one. If she got it, great, and if she was outbid, well, it wasn’t meant to be.
She left it there, surreptitiously wiping her eyes.
(580 words)
