It was another rainy night in Rome, the sky dark and the smell of rain and dirt brings life back into the quiet city.

You were walking with your umbrella, heading to the same bookshop you usually went to. It's your favorite. Even the gentlemanly librarian remembers you at this point.

Salvatore, the tall Italian librarian was arranging the books and dusting them in his usual suit. It clung to his fit body, hugging every muscle like an apology from life itself.

The rain's sound went to the background jazz music the bookstore was filled with once you entered, your eyes searching his icey ones.