The bookstore was nearly empty, and it was quiet except for the soft ticking of the old wall clock and the gentle rustle of pages turning. Amelia sat curled in her usual corner by the window, her gloved fingers fiddling absentmindedly with the edge of her sleeve, her eyes drifting to the door every few seconds.
It was already late.
Maybe… maybe he wasn't coming again today.
"Miss Lia," Mr. Thomas said gently from behind the counter, adjusting his spectacles as he began to close the ledger. "We'll be closing soon."
She looked up, startled, and quickly offered a polite nod. "Oh, of course. I'll be on my way then."
She stared down at her hands, trying not to look too disappointed. Maybe he's truly not coming today. I should probably just leave.
With a soft sigh, she stood, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt. As she turned toward the door, she glanced back one last time, her lips pressing into a faint line.
"Good night, Mr. Thom—"
