ᴀ ғᴀɴᴛᴀsʏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ - ғᴀᴇʀɪᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇ
Lotte watched as its tattered pages became soaked. Her composure was stilled and strong but her heart felt heavy as she swiftly made her way out of the shop. She was careful not to show any mournful emotion of anothe...
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Gisborne, New Zealand
Ellintine's Cafe and Bookstore
LOTTE HAS BECOME ACCUSTOMED to many things -- Mrs Lorey Ellintine's cafe and bookstore would definitely be associated with those things.
The smell of freshly opened books and hot drinks seemed to contribute to the cozy aura it radiated -- and Lotte loved it.
Although she only really buys books discreetly so it wouldn't be thrown away. Usually Lotte was very good at this, but today was a rare day.
A copy of one of her favorite author's book was left in a puddle, Lotte watched as its tattered pages became soaked. Her eyes drooped down to her clenched hands which had cuts over them and she took a deep breath.
She felt more and more tired of the endless control that was held over her.
The window separated her from the pouring rain and the confinement of the coffee scented room.
Her head held high she pulled herself up and gathered her art supplies and homework into her old dainty denim bag.
Her composure was stilled and strong but her heart felt heavy as she swiftly made her way out of the shop.
Lotte was careful to avoid the hard gaze of the men behind her. She was careful not to show any mournful emotion of another book's death. She always did.
She hugged herself tighter as the rain began to stain her clothes. She walked toward the puddle, but a figure beat her to the book.
She abruptly stopped, unknowing of what to do of the stranger holding her book. He was fairly tall, and coated with layers of clothes. Her heart picked up pace. Although, he simply handed the soggy book to her, then rushed away.
Lotte couldn't help but feel as if he was here for something else. As if he came to see her particularly. Curiously she was quick to look at the man's reflection on the puddle on the ground, as he went about his way. Of course the puddle was blurry, but she couldn't help but see a faded glow of white upon his back. A white light perhaps. She couldn't help but remember dreams she had in the past.
She clutched her book in her hands and slowly made her way home, letting the loud sound of her boots pattering against the glossy ground echo through the night.
