Napoli Fine Books and Antiquities reads the weathered, careworn sign above the door. The window is stuffed with things just old enough to be junk and not rare enough to interest true collectors. A fifty year old tricycle, board games, a glass and decanter made from orange glass (one glass missing and a crack in the decanter's stopper), a set of dentures from the turn of the century that were missing three molars, and a beat up world war two flight jacket were among the items. A small sign was stuck in the corner of the big plate glass window that read 'anything found, inquire within'.

The door opens with a jangle of bells hung above it. It smells musty, like an elderly house's attic, and it looks no less cluttered than the window itself. If one happened to read Stephen King, they might flash on Leland Gaunt's store of curiosities, but of a less sinister bent.

The shopkeeper is in the back, the man behind the faded curtain. There's a bell on the counter--would you care to give it a ring?

If you're calling to speak to Mr. Napoli, he does answer his phone--just make sure it's important, or else he'll let you speak to the dial tone.