You ran a bookshop, one for very rare (and very expensive) old books. As to be expected, you didn't get very many customers. Most people took one look at your prices and never looked back. But there were the occasional rich college kids who kept you going. And your regular.

His name was Mike, you believed. At least, that's what he wrote on the checks for an exorbitant amount of money that he never even flinched. You weren't sure were exactly he got the money, and you weren't going to ask.

You even had a small section of a bookshelf set aside with books you thought he might be interested in. Usually he'd come in once a week, pick through a few books without saying anything, pay, and quickly leave. Strange.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

It was raining today. Hard. You occasionally heard the crack-and-boom of lightning and thunder as you watched the rain pour down outside, before hearing the the bell on your door ring and someone hurry in. It was Mike, who looked a bit freaked out. He looked from you to the windows a few times before asking,

"It's... it's actually raining out, right?