He sat down and seemed to study me. I returned his studious inspection. But again, as in my hallway, I was slightly unnerved by his astute attention, causing me to break contact first. Getting to my feet with the book tight to my chest, I went back to roaming the store, casting a look back at him. His scrutiny still locked on me. My mind still staggered.
My basket was heavy with books, but I managed to find just enough room to fit in an assortment of scented candles, incense, and a wonderful mug that made me feel grounded and cheery. It read, “A Poem for Mornings: Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, and coffee. Everyone shut up. Coffee.”
Chloe was sorting through some very antiquated-looking books and placing them into the glass showcase beneath the register. They could easily pass f
