Sometimes, after being forgotten, even sitting in a store window doesn’t help, although there’s always the chance that someone will walk in and take you home. Remembering who you used to be, leaves one bereft and imprisoned, knowing that those who glance at you, only see your current state of being. All the while you remember being new and wonderful, packed and traveling, being played in a band, looking beautiful in a well loved home. That’s who you truly are, in spite of what others see, or think, assuming they even stop a moment, to look at you. A shop of lost dreams and realities, full of broken hearts and those who were left behind. People can feel the same way, except there’s no shop that can give them a second chance.