Location: Bookends
Status: OPEN (0/5)
The bell above the door gave its usual tired little chime as Yvaine stepped into Bookends, carrying the lingering chill of the previous evening in with her.
The shop smelled like paper left too long near salt air; old bindings, fresh ink, coffee from somewhere nearby. It was warm in the way places become warm after years of people lingering inside them.
She paused just inside the doorway, fingers still curled loosely around the strap of her canvas bag.
Bookends had become one of the few places she visited without purpose.
Not work.
Not errands.
Not obligation.
Just somewhere quiet enough to exist for a while.
Her gaze drifted slowly across the shelves before settling near the back corner where someone had abandoned a small stack of trade-in books beside an armchair. One sat crookedly on top, pages fanned open from wear. Loved too hard, probably. Yvaine found herself staring at it longer than necessary.
Then, almost absently, she moved toward the newsstand instead.
Her movements carried the same strange grace they always did, subtle but noticeable; careful turns, silent steps, the unconscious precision of someone long accustomed to balance. Even reaching for a magazine looked deliberate somehow.
She picked up an astronomy publication first, then a poetry journal she didn’t intend to buy. After a moment, she tucked both loosely against her chest and wandered further inward, trailing quiet fingertips along the edges of shelves as she passed.
A few customers milled through the store in soft murmurs, pages turning somewhere nearby.
She didn’t feel rushed to leave.
Stopping near a display table stacked with used hardcovers and handwritten staff recommendations, Yvaine crouched slightly to inspect the lower shelf. A strand of blonde hair slipped loose near her face as she tilted her head, reading a faded synopsis along the spine.
Only after a moment did she realize someone else had reached for the exact same book at the same time.
Her hand stilled instantly before withdrawing halfway, eyes lifting toward them with mild surprise.
“Oh-” Her voice came soft, almost apologetic. “Sorry. You can take it.”