Finally

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Considering the mysterious happenings in the morning, the rest of Nova's work day was quite uneventful. She argued with a customer about the price of a copy of Game of Thrones. An American tourist had trouble understanding her Northern accent. A few kids came in when school ended to buy some pencils and erasers. As they walked by, giggling and chattering in their perfect blue jumpers and skirts, their black shoes clicking and clacking on the worn floor, Nova put her head in her hands and thought, I deserve better.

I deserve better, she repeated to herself throughout the day. I deserve better, as she sold books and pens. I deserve better, as she looked out the rain-splattered third-floor window and watched pigeons land on St. Paul's a few streets away. I deserve better, as she began to close up at six forty-five that evening. I deserve better.

Nova had turned off all of the shop's lights and was about to lock the front door (Mr Harbringer had left early to catch a train to Manchester for his nephew's wedding) when a man jogged up to her.

"Excuse me," the man called out. "you don't happen to be closing now, do you?"

"I'm afraid so," replied Nova. She turned the key and pulled it out. "You'll have to wait until morning."

"No, no I won't," said the man. He pulled some sort of metal device out of his jacket's inside pocket. He pointed the tip at the lock and pressed its one button. The tip lit up green and made a loud whirr sound. Suddenly the lock clicked open and the man invited himself in.

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