#** threads **

Rhona had always found comfort among shelves of books. An object full of bolder places, big adventures, perfect romances and deepest heartbreaks. Cliche, maybe. But she was not one to care. “Hello! Is there a book in particular you are looking for, or just browsing?” she asked as someone entered the library.

“Yo, mate, y’gotta little thing on your head,” Panit said, illustrating by pointing to his own forehead. “Looks like mud, maybe. Or chocolate. Y’ wouldn’t hide chocolate on me now would you?” He spoke in an upbeat cheerful tone, not condescending or judgmental.