In the back of Mrs. Lee's antique shop, behind clocks frozen at moments no one remembers, sits a glass cabinet of objects with price tags that read "If: $10." Each item, when held, offers a vision of the life you would have lived had you owned it. A cracked violin shows you on stage in Budapest, bow arm aching, applause heavy as rain. A chipped mug reveals mornings in a coastal town, writing letters you never send. Mina finds the cabinet while looking for a lamp. She lifts a silver lighter and sees herself as a magician's assistant, half illusion and half fire. Mrs. Lee watches from the counter, knitting. "No refunds," she says, meaning no takebacks from alternate timelines.
Mina is between jobs, relationships, decisions. She spends an afternoon trying objects, dizzy with versions of herself that almost existed. None of these lives are perfect; each comes with shadows. The violinist misses family birthdays. The coastal writer fears storms. The magician's assistant lives with burns. Mrs. Lee explains the cabinet does not sell happiness; it sells perspective. "Pick one if you want to carry the weight of another road," she says. Mina buys a small compass that shows her as a cave cartographer. She places it on her desk, not to regret what she did not become but to remind her that choosing a path means honoring the others by acknowledging them. Sometimes the compass needle spins wildly, pointing toward new caves she has yet to draw. Mina begins exploring literal caves on weekends, laughing at how a $10 object nudged her into dirt and wonder. Mrs. Lee restocks the cabinet with fresh Ifs, donated by customers who outgrew regret. The shop becomes a quiet confessional, a place where buying something can feel like forgiving the person you did not become.
On slow afternoons, Mrs. Lee lets Mina behind the counter to help catalog new Ifs. They invent backstories, imagining what lives will flash before the next curious customer. Mina notices some objects stay unsold. "Those are content lives," Mrs. Lee says. "People hold them and see themselves happy where they already are." Mina smiles, realizing contentment is also an alternate life, one she is slowly stepping into. She keeps the compass on her desk but now uses it to plan trips, not to mourn them.