Abigail

Stress was the only word Abigail Winston could use to describe the way she appeared in the reflection of the bookstore window. Her deep red shoulder length hair that had at one point always been kept styled was now betrayed by random strands that stuck out in all directions. The dark circles around her eyes did nothing for her, and combined with her own dark brown eyes it looked more like the sockets of a skull. Even her skin was beginning to dry out, the time she had spent maintaining it now lost and dedicated to the job instead. There was no way that she could deny the situation any longer, she looked terrible, felt terrible and even acted terrible around others. If she did not find some way to change the current situation it would soon start to affect her work.

With one last look at her haggard appearance she brushed her hair behind her ears. A futile attempt to remove it from her eyesight so she could ignore it, before entering the small store. She needed something that would allow her to take a breath, something that would let her clear her mind of work and let go of the stress that had been building up inside her for the past six months. When she was younger she had enjoyed reading, and had often seen the small shop on her way home but this would be her first time visiting.

As the door opened a small bell chimed altering the owner to the new arrival. It was small inside, the air was stale filled with the scent of dust and something else that seemed familiar, yet completely alien to her. Each wall was lined with bookshelves that were full of older books that looked well cared for. The shelf that say in the middle of the store running for almost the entire length was different however. The books on this shelf looked new, never having had an owner they appeared colder, more alien than the pre-owned books that flanked them on either side. At the end of this self there was a small desk, pinned with piles of books, both new and old. Behind the books she spotted a lone man, most likely the proprietor. At a glance he looked to be around the same age as her, yet his skin was pockmarked with acne damage caused in his youth. His grey eyes were hidden behind rather thick black rimmed glasses obscuring the size of them, making them seem larger than they should be.

It was quite obvious that he was unaware of her presence, still engrossed within the book that was sitting on the table in front of him. She was the only customer, a simple conclusion that she could draw was that the shop was not popular, or it catered to a rather niche market. Yet she found herself drawn towards the desk, the silence and true nature of the store tickled her investigative instincts.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me?" She asked, her voice slipping into the same tone that she used for work as she adopted her professional persona. Her stance straightened and became stiff. This pose cast her in the power of authority over the conversation, or so her training had taught her, and she believed.

"Depends what kind of help you require." The mans voice was raspy, sounding as though it was rarely used, and his tone harsh. Yet he never looked up at her, he kept reading his book. As he turned the page a simple sound of paper filled the silent store.

It took Abigail a moment to regain her composure, she was not used to being brushed off when she spoke. "Well I was hoping to buy a book."

"That is obvious, this is a book store after all." She could hear a slight agitation slither its way into his voice, it was clear to her that she had no power over any part of this conversation. A strange alien feeling started to work its way through her, something she had not felt in a long time. "Of course it depends what kind of book you are looking for I suppose."

"That is what I wish help with... sir." She had paused before adding that last word to her statement, but now that she had uttered it she could not understand why. Sir was something used to address a superior, not a random store owner.