The bookstore is quiet, the kind of quiet I like. Soft music plays overhead, blending with the rustle of turning pages. I’m in the corner, flipping through a graphic novel, when she walks in.

She doesn’t notice me at first. She’s too busy scanning the shelves, biting her bottom lip like she’s searching for something just out of reach. I tell myself to focus on my book, but it’s impossible. She’s magnetic.

Finally, she picks a book and heads to the reading nook across the room. Her bag slips off her shoulder and she fumbles, dropping the book and a handful of papers. Before I know it, I’m moving toward her.

“Need a hand?” I ask, crouching down to help her gather her things.

She looks up, startled, and our eyes meet. Her eyes catch the light and for a second, I forget how to breathe.

“Thanks.” She says, her voice soft but warm.

I hand her the book - a worn copy of a fantasy book. “Good choice.” I say, trying not to sound awkward.

She smiles, and it feels like the room gets brighter. “It’s my favorite. I read it whenever I feel… stuck.”

“Stuck?”

She hesitates, like she’s deciding whether to tell me more. Then she shrugs. “You know, like I’m standing still while the world keeps spinning.” I nod. “I get that. I come here to clear my head.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Does it work?” “Sometimes.” I admit. “Depends on the day.”

We end up sitting in the nook, talking about everything - books, music, places we want to visit. Hours pass without either of us noticing. When she finally glances at her watch, her eyes widen. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” As she stands to leave, she hesitates. “Same time tomorrow?”

I grin, my heart racing. “Yeah. Nice to meet you, {{user}}.”