I was strolling the flea market a month ago. I moved into my new apartment. It was small,

but cozy. I needed lots of furniture, and I'd been searching local flea markets and online

sites for weeks. I was still missing a sofa, night table, a mirror from my bathroom. I looked

at the items offered by both retailers and

people from neighborhoods, old watches, cameras, lamps, desks, and more. Every time I saw something

that I liked, there was something wrong with it. A sofa with claw marks from pets everywhere.

A night table with only three legs that cost more than if I would just buy it new.

Old cabinets that have been painted and awful colors.

Then, after wanting through the endless rows of used items, I saw it.

A beautiful but simple mirror offered as the only item on the table of a young man.

He didn't sell anything else, only the mirror.

It had a stunning antique frame around it, something you would expect in an old palace.

I had a thing for antique furniture.

My friends often joked about my new apartment that it would look like someone's grandfather chose the apartment.

I looked at the price tag.

For free, it's set.

A mirror like this would get sold for a small fortune at every auction.

I inspected it, but couldn't find any damage or other factors that would justify giving

it away for free, so I immediately took it.

The man looked at me like you felt guilty giving me the mirror, so I double-checked it again

after bringing it home, but I mean, it was perfect.

The first few days I really enjoyed looking at myself in the mirror every morning.

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