A section of her hair strays from her bun as she stands on her toes to put another book in. The sunlight hits its strands and reveals the golden brown hiding behind her deep nightshade hair. She takes the next and dusts it before putting it in, reading its title and finding where it belongs, her hand gently tipping it in place. She notices me as she turns, he straight face, nothing short of eye candy. Can I help you? she initiates. Yes. Can you please tell me where the astrology aisle is? I stutter.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories (reconstructed)
Short StoryThis is a reconstructed anthology of the randomly generated stories I had in mind during 2015. (Read segment title for the list of unsettling content in each category)
