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Clara reached under the counter and pulled out a small, laminated card. It was a bookmark the shop gave out with every purchase, covered in quotes.

Outside, the city was a blur of gray charcoal and silver streaks. Inside, Clara was busy stacking hardcovers, humming along to the sound of the downpour against the large bay window.

Ten minutes later, he approached the counter with a biography of a Victorian explorer. As Clara rang him up, the rain intensified, drumming a frantic rhythm on the roof. The man hesitated, looking at the door.

"Let me grab my coat," she said. "But I’m bringing the umbrella."

"I have to walk six blocks," he said, sighing. "I’m going to arrive looking like I swam there."