You know, as a kid, I never actually went to a museum. Sure, my dad had a collection of artifacts, books, and all sorts of knick-knacks that I just couldn't wrap my head around. It took me years to realise that it was more than just a bit of admiration and preservation. I'm still not entirely sure what's so special about it all, but everyone treats these things like they're the Crown Jewels. Must be something massive.

I've heard magicians can actually sense magic. It's a proper marvel, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'm a bit green with envy. My phone rings for the tenth time. I pull it out of my pocket and see Barry's calling again. I let out a groan, feeling a tad fed up, and shove my phone back into my pocket. I return to scrutinising the Aztec blade in front of me, hoping I might detect something that everyone else seems to miss.

Barry calls again-three more times, to be precise. At this point, I'm really getting cheesed off. "What do you want, mate?" I snap, exasperated. "It's like I've got a bloody stalker."

"Why the hell haven't you picked up? I've been trying to reach you all day. I need to talk to you, right now, please."

Barry begging? That's a new one. Asking for favours is even more so. Most people like me well enough, but a few-very few-think I'm a right wanker. I might be a bit self-centred, but "wanker" seems a bit over the top. "Hello?" Barry's voice jolts me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, right, sorry about that, mate. I'll be there in twenty minutes." I hang up, wondering what's got his knickers in a twist. Honestly, part of me regrets answering. Barry's a saint, and I could be helping others. Ugh, I really loathe doing that. You know, each person to their own problems and all that. I'd rather not get involved in other people's messes.

So, from the museum, I headed to a diner and treated myself to a cherry pie-absolutely divine. After that, I went to my flat, switched on the telly, and cracked open a beer. Nothing beats a lazy Sunday. Sure, there were a few distractions, like Barry's melodrama, but he'll find better help elsewhere. I mean, it's not like he's the only person in the world with problems, right?

Then I heard a knock at the door. Naturally, I ignored it, but the blighter was persistent. "Alright, alright, for heaven's sake, I'm coming." I opened the door to find someone I'd been dodging all day. Barry's a big bloke, built like a tank. He favours clothes that are way too tight and show off his muscles-it's also how I saw that punch coming.

I flew back, pain flaring through my nose as a crimson stream started running. "You asshole," Barry roared, fuming. He yanked me by the shirt and lifted me to meet his glare. "You come home when you fucking knew I needed you. You seriously left hanging, what the hell!"

"Okay, I know what it looks like, and I can explain," I started, trying to sound sincere, but he just glared at me, waiting for an explanation I didn't have. "Yeah, sorry, mate. I'm fresh out of excuses."

Barry pulled his head back and banged it against my nose, sending another wave of agony through me. I crumpled to the floor as he released me and trudged into the living room. Groaning, I pushed myself up, feeling the sting of my bruised pride as well as my battered face. I was about to grumble and ask why he'd gone so over the top, but he was slumped on the couch, looking like he'd had the weight of the world dumped on him.

I sighed, almost feeling sorry for him. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a cold drink, and pressed it against my nose, hoping to numb the pain. "I'm guessing Sara's filed for a divorce, then?" I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," he sighed, his head still hanging low. "I've searched high and low, called in every favour I could. Honestly, you're the only one I can rely on." He looked at me with sheer desperation. "Please, you've got to help me find her, Grif. I don't know where else to go."

I looked at him, feeling a pang of sympathy despite the pain. "Alright, alright. I suppose I've got to do something. Just don't go smashing my face in every time you're in a bad mood."

Barry managed a weak smile, and for the first time, I saw the hint of relief in his eyes. "Thank you."