“Eleven Dollars,” she will say…. “no, no,” she will say, waving her hand. And then she will name her actual price. Usually it is money. Sometimes it is other things. Sometimes it is dreams, experiences, visions.”

Joseph Fink & Jeffrey Cranor, Welcome to Night Vale

The old grocery store has always been on the edge of town, but when you lose a bet with your hooligan friends, they dare you to go in. It’s like any abandoned grocery store, dusty and mostly empty. But on the back shelves are some things you’ve been really wanting. A new pair of shoes, that game system, and, holy shit, the newest iPhone. You reach for it, but then you notice the price tag. “A good day,” one reads, “an old memory,” says another. Thinking nothing of it, you start grabbing. You don’t tell your friends. You keep coming back and the prices get steeper. One day, you go in and notice a price tag that says, “a life.” Since the prices before hadn’t seemed so bad, you take it. And as the door swings closed behind you, a sign appears that says “no returns…”