I type back:Back corner. Small shelf next to the window. Mixed with literary fiction.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Found it. Customer is very excited about Neruda.
Despite everything, warmth blooms in me. Someone is excited about Neruda. In my shop. My weird little pop-up shop that doesn't officially open for another week.
Great. Ring them up if they want to buy.
How?
Right. I never showed him the register.
Square reader on the counter. Tap the amount. They tap their card. Receipt prints automatically.
Got it.
I shove my phone back in my clothes. The line moves forward. Two people left before me.
My brain won't stop spinning.
Cultural programming. Heritage Festival. Espresso machine. Aunt Rene's prescriptions. The awning. The grant money that's supposed to cover operating costs for six months but probably won't stretch that far because nothing ever does.
Stone's face flashes through my mind. The way he held that brittle biography. The careful precision of his hands.
I shake my head. Focus on the email I still need to write.
The line moves again.
Twenty-three minuteslater I'm back at the shop.
The door alerts when I push through. Custom sound. Three ascending notes that cost too much but felt important at the time.
Stone is behind the counter. Talking to a customer.
Talking.
Not scaring. Not demolishing anything. Just talking.
The customer is a woman in her fifties. Glasses. Cardigan. Tote bag that saysI'd Rather Be Reading.
She's smiling.
Actually smiling.
At Stone.
"And that's why I think the octopus would win," he's saying as I approach, his voice carrying that same earnest quality I've started to recognize. "Superior tactical thinking. More limbs. Ability to camouflage."
"But the bear has claws," the woman counters, clearly delighted by this entire ridiculous conversation.
"Octopus has venom. And psychological warfare. The bear doesn't know what it's dealing with."
She laughs. Actual laughter. "You make a compelling case."
Stone bags her purchase. Three paperbacks. The Neruda collection. A cookbook. A mystery novel with a cat on the cover.
"Thank you for coming in," he says, handing over the bag with both hands like it's something precious. "I hope you enjoy them."
