Ava sat behind the register of Marginalia, the bookstore she had been working at for some time now, flipping through a literary journal. It was an unnecessarily dry read, the desire for a sufficiently academic tone killing any actual appeal the writers' voices might have had. She'd picked it up knowing she should read it, but found it increasingly likely that she would not. Pushing it aside, she leaned back in her chair, contemplating the ceiling.
About a week ago she had put up a symbol in the window to indicate one of the Lost worked on the premises, right next to the fliers about local readings and community events; she'd already watched several pairs of mundie eyes slide over it. So far no takers, but she wasn't exactly surprised. And who knew, maybe someone had come in, just not during her shift.
Maybe they got stuck with Oliver, haha.
But Oliver wasn't working today and neither was anyone else. It was a rare sort of day where she had the store completely to herself, baring the occasional shopper that went through the aisles like a sleepwalker before wandering back out. It was too early for students hoping to get their pricey school books used and cheap, maybe even with useful notes in the margins, and too hot for all but the most hardcore window shoppers.
Standing up, she stretched in front of the oscillating fan and smoothed out the wrinkles in her light grey blouse before picking up the the journal and making her way back to where she had found it, her back to the front door.
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