Ryan stepped out of the bookstore, the little bell chiming above the door again. The sun was starting to dip, casting long golden shadows across the sidewalk.
He barely made it three steps when he collided with someone.
Books tumbled to the ground.
"Sorry," Ryan said quickly, stepping back.
"It's okay," came a voice—firm, but not unfriendly.
He bent down to help pick up the books, and as he handed one back, his eyes caught the title: Slaughterhouse-Five.
"Cool choice," he said, a trace of genuine surprise in his voice.
Anna looked up at him. "You've read it?"
He gave a small shrug. "Yeah. Vonnegut's weird… but good weird."
Before she could reply, Ryan nodded once and turned, walking away down the street with one hand in his pocket and the other holding the book Mr. James had given him.
Anna watched him go for a second before stepping into the bookstore, brushing dust from her jeans.
Mr. James greeted her with a knowing smile. "Afternoon, Anna."
"Hey," she said, setting her bag down. "Who was that?"
He leaned casually on the counter. "That? That was Ryan. Sarah's son."
Her eyebrows rose. "She's back?"
"Came back a few days ago."
Anna looked toward the door Ryan had disappeared through. "He doesn't talk much."
Mr. James chuckled. "Nope. But he sees more than he says. And he's got a good head. The quiet ones always do."
Anna nodded slowly, then reached for a book from the pile. "Still. Weird place to bump into someone."
Mr. James gave her a playful grin. "This old bookstore has its own kind of magic. You'll see."