“Very good, very cheap. Real deer skin.”

He smiles, flashing teeth stained by nicotine and lies.

“How much for this one?” my mother asks, holding up an ochre colored wallet emblazoned with petals.

“700 Yen.”

He licks his lips and his beady eyes flick to my mother's hands as she carefully opens her wallet.

I am suspicious.

“Did you make them?” 

His wolf smile falters.

“Real deer skin. Very good.”

My mother hands him the money and he snatches it away, growling greedily. I take the coin bag.

As we walk in the rainy streets, I grab fistfuls of loose change from my pockets and fill our purchase. I inspect the wallet.

It is too smooth, too plastic-smelling, too not-deer-like.

“You know, he was lying,” I say.

“I know.”

Coins jingle in my pocket and I rub my fingers on the smooth leather.