Falling through the cracks

Part 1: The Meeting

Part 1: The Meeting

Ivy adjusted her scarf as the cold wind bit at her cheeks, the familiar streets of her city feeling more lifeless than ever. Another day. Another blur of hours spent pretending she belonged in a world that barely noticed her. The dull ache in her chest had become a companion she couldn’t shake, and tonight, like so many others, she sought solace in the quiet refuge of the old bookstore on 12th Street.

The store’s bell jingled as she pushed open the door, the warmth inside wrapping around her like a hesitant embrace. Ivy browsed aimlessly, her fingers trailing over spines of books she wouldn’t buy, just grateful for a space where no one expected her to smile. She was about to leave when a voice broke through her haze.

“That one’s good if you’re into heartbreak,” it said.

Ivy turned and found herself staring into the warm brown eyes of a woman with paint-stained hands and a tired but genuine smile. She held out a book, its cover weathered and worn.

“I’ve read it a hundred times,” the stranger continued, brushing a strand of short, dark hair behind her ear. “Kind of like therapy. Or torture. Depends on the day.”

Ivy hesitated, then took the book, her fingers brushing against the stranger’s. “Thanks,” she mumbled, her voice cracking from disuse.

“I’m Sam,” the woman said, tilting her head. “You look like you could use something a little lighter, though.”

Ivy’s defenses kicked in, but something in Sam’s easy smile disarmed her. “Maybe. Or maybe heartbreak is all I can handle right now.”

Sam nodded, her expression softening. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it—or just need more sad books—I’m here almost every night.”

Ivy didn’t know why, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled, even if just a little.

As she left the store that night, clutching the book to her chest, Ivy found herself hoping for tomorrow—not because anything had changed, but because someone had finally seen her.

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