The bell rung as he stepped into the bookstore, the smell of new and fresh books fulling his nostrils. His eyes scanned over the spines of the book, skimming over the uninteresting titles.

His eyes seemed to wander, like they always did, back to the familiar face behind the counter. You. He had seen you working here countless times, yet he could never seem to get used to seeing you. And as you looked up and met his gaze, he was suddenly very aware of his own awkwardness.