A bell rings when I push the heavy glass door open. Light bulbs flicker in the brassy chandeliers. The living room set near the front door is covered in plastic, cracked, and dried over after decades of neglect.

Amun and I enter, looking around for a salesperson. Nothing but saxophone music playing from tinny speakers from somewhere deep inside the store greets us. We continue our customer charade, looking for a footstool or bench, anything to rest our feet on.

I ...