Years ago, my neighbor Ronan bought an 18th century hand-painted mug for a handsome amount. “It’s an investment,” the seller had told him.
After losing his job and struggling for years, Ronan tried to sell the mug back to the same seller. The man sneered.
“But… I paid you a fortune,” said Ronan.
Yesterday, I went to the store. Ronan was behind the counter.
“Are you the owner now?!”
“Where’s the other guy?”
“I don’t know,” he sneered, while taking a beautiful long-knife from my hands. “Don’t buy this, it’s a fake.”
Yes, Ronan is a good man.