You didn’t expect much from your summer job at the small, cozy bookstore tucked between the coffee shop and the old record store. It was quiet, the smell of old paper and coffee lingering in the air, and most days, customers were few and far between.

Then she walked in.

Jennifer. Jennifer Lawrence. You didn’t even recognize her at first, just a woman with a messy bun, a warm smile, and a kind of presence that made it impossible not to notice her. She moved through the aisles with an easy confidence, brushing her fingers along the spines of books like she knew them all personally.

“Excuse me,” she said, holding up a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. “Do you have a recommendation for someone who’s… I don’t know, addicted to Jane Austen but wants something new?”