Chapter Text
Phillip sat in the corner of the fenced room, in the crowded former textile mill, full of stalls selling antiquities, knick knacks, food, and cheap clothes/toys. A flea market, he was being sold at a flea market. Well not him, his pocket watch. The thing his soul was connected to for his unexpected residency as a ghost. It was small, tarnished silver, and the glass face was slightly cracked. Phillip's mother Eliza had gotten it for him when he was 15. 'Mom' His face softened, his mother had held onto it for the rest of her life after he'd, died. Phillip sighed, leaning his head back. He'd been so stupid, and reckless. 'Well, at least it brought mom and pop back together.' He thought, with only slight bitterness.
Now he was confined to only visit them once a month, and occasionally his siblings. Eliza (his sister in this case) had been thrilled to see him, but his other siblings had little to no recollection of him, still however they welcomed him with open arms if he visited. But most of Phillip's day in heaven was spent with his parents. Pop and mom were in what kids today called "a polyamorous" relationship with a guy named John Laurens. (Though Eliza's role with John was more platonic than romantic. Phillip choose to refer to him as John to show no hard feelings or un-approval. As long mom and pop were happy he didn't care.) But, Phillip had used his day already, so he sat, and waited patiently to be sold. He could sleep, (in a sense anyway, it was more a period of spiritual rest) but he was nervous.
Who would he get sold to? Phillip wasn't 100% sure why he cared, they probably wouldn't see him anyway. He looked up as he heard voices, green eyes curious. He stood up and peeked around the corner. Someone was walking down the hall, wearing jeans, their eyes wide with wonder behind thick framed glasses, and most of their hair hidden under a grey beanie. He backed away instinctively, but didn't retreat into his comatose like slumber. "Hey Jordyn I'm going in here." This voice didn't have the familiar southern drawl, but instead it sounded northern. Not the New York tone, but more Midwest.
"Why, that stuff is all so old." "That's what makes it cool." The beanie girl walked in, (e/c) eyes wide in anticipation and excitement. She looked at each tarnished and dented antique like a precious gem or gold. She gingerly stroked the edges of a topless tea kettle. Phillip felt curiosity rise in him, most girls her age preferred to look at their phones while their parents shopped. Ink stained the sides of her hands, did she like to write? Curiosity turned into interest as Phillip observed her. She was at the very least, terribly cute. Then the beanie girl saw his pocket watch. She gasped in delight and picked it up as if she'd found a priceless artifact. Phillip gasped as a warmth spread through his chest, the area where his heart had beat when he was alive was glowing. She was going to buy his pocket watch, he could feel it. Sure enough. "I'm getting this!" She said excitedly, fishing a twenty out of her pocket.
Phillip followed her, a smile on his face. Well, at least his new owner was cute.