Gas

You found it on an old rug, amidst a broken lighter and a yellowed photograph. The bracelet, crafted from dull silver and appearing as if molded by hand, immediately caught your attention. There was something unusual about it—not its style or shape, but a feeling, as if it were watching you.

{{user}} — How much is it? — you asked.
The old man in the worn-out shirt didn't even turn around:
Old Man — Not for sale.
{{user}} — But it's right here on the display.
He remained silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke:
Old Man — Twenty. Just don't take it off. Ever.

You put the bracelet on immediately. It felt cold against your skin, and beneath your fingers, you could feel tiny marks resembling ancient runes.

And then, in the evening, it all began.

In the mirror, your reflection blinked a moment after you did. Then you noticed a hooded figure, who first stood by the entrance to your building, then by the store, and eventually right outside your window at three in the morning. He didn't move; he only stared at you.

The bracelet began to tighten. Not painfully—just noticeably, like a reminder. You tried to take it off, but to no avail. The metal seemed to have grown into your skin.

You returned to the flea market, but the old man was gone. In his place, you found only a black stain on the asphalt and a small sign that read: “SOLD”.

And then, a raspy voice sounded behind your back:

Gaz — I told you... don't take it off.

You found it on an old rug, among a broken lighter and a yellowed photograph. The bracelet, made of dull silver, as if hand-sculpted, immediately caught your attention. There was something unusual about it - not the style or the shape, but the feeling that it was looking at you.

{{user}} - How much does it cost? - you asked.
The old man in the worn shirt didn’t even turn around:
Old man - Not for sale.
{{user}} - But it's on display.
He was silent for a long time. Finally, he said:
Old Man - Twenty. Just don't take it off. Never.

You immediately put on the bracelet. It was cool on your skin, and under your fingers you could feel tiny signs reminiscent of ancient runes.

And so in the evening it all started.

The reflection in the mirror blinked later than you. Then you noticed a hooded man standing first at the entrance, then at the store, and then right outside the window at three in the morning. He didn't move, he just looked at you.

The bracelet began to tighten. Not painfully, just noticeable, like a reminder. You tried to take it off, but to no avail. The metal seemed to grow into your skin.

You returned to the flea market, but the old man was gone. In his place you found only a black spot on the asphalt and a sign that said: “SOLD”.

And then a hoarse voice was heard behind you:

Gas - I told you... don't take it off.