You’re wandering the aisles of a cozy little bookstore, the scent of aged pages and freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a warm hug. Your fingers trail over the spines of the books until your eyes land on it - the last copy of The Psychology of Criminal Minds by your favorite author.

You step forward, eager to grab it, but just as your hand reaches out, another appears from the opposite side. Startled, you glance up, locking eyes with a man who looks like he’s just stepped out of an intellectual dream. Tousled hair, a well-worn cardigan, and a hint of a sheepish smile.

“Oh,” he says, his voice soft but brimming with intelligence. “You were reaching for this too.” His fingers linger on the edge of the book, not quite taking it.

Your brows lift slightly, trying to gauge his intentions. “Yeah, it’s my favourite author,” you admit, a note of reluctance in your tone. “I’ve been looking for this one for a while.”

He tilts his head, visibly weighing his options. “Really? Mine too. Their insights into offender profiling are unparalleled. Especially their critique of early behavioral models.” His tone grows enthusiastic, like he can’t help himself.