The bookstore was my quiet escape from the world—sunlight spilling through tall windows, the air smelling like old paper and comfort, and the soft hush that made every day feel safe. I was shelving classics like I’d done a hundred times before, lost in the peaceful routine, when the doorbell rang sharply and broke the calm. A teenage girl stepped inside, moving like she didn’t want to be seen, her oversized hoodie swallowing her whole and her backpack hanging heavy on her shoulders. Something about her made the room feel different—like the silence suddenly had tension in it. And before...
Continues…