Mika’s Happiness Medicine wasn’t sold in a bottle. It came in a battered tin box, the size of a deck of cards, painted with faded sunflowers. Mika, a round-cheeked woman with silver-streaked hair, ran a tiny shop at the end of a cobbled lane that most people had forgotten. Her sign simply read: Cures for the Common Gloom.
“Tell me three things,” she’d say, setting the tin box on the counter. “Not your name. Not your age. Just three things you saw today that were beautiful.”
Leo did that, too. And something strange happened. The more he gave away, the more he seemed to have.
Mika’s Happiness Medicine wasn’t sold in a bottle. It came in a battered tin box, the size of a deck of cards, painted with faded sunflowers. Mika, a round-cheeked woman with silver-streaked hair, ran a tiny shop at the end of a cobbled lane that most people had forgotten. Her sign simply read: Cures for the Common Gloom.
“Tell me three things,” she’d say, setting the tin box on the counter. “Not your name. Not your age. Just three things you saw today that were beautiful.”
Leo did that, too. And something strange happened. The more he gave away, the more he seemed to have.