At the back of the staff room, the door to the facilities stands as warped as the rest of the wood in the bookshop, and as shut as the front door. Its plastic sign shows two overlapping stick figures. Small book shapes have been added between them in permanent marker. Maz pushes through and leaves…

The Frayed Spine is in a lull that is only tested for its cracks now and then by the pattering of rain against the window until Meg storms out of the staff room. Her ponytail snaps side to side behind her. The door slams shut. Each one of her heavy footfalls makes the warped floorboards…

“You need to be upside down too. I mean, to read that one. It’s a whole new genre.” Eli taps the mint tin in his hand against the upside-down paperback that Meg is pretending to read while perched on the arm of Eli’s chair in the staff room. The tin sketches a full loop in…

Ron reaches under the till and brings out a jar labelled ‘Tips’. Its glass is as thick as a magnifying lens at its base, and lands with a heavy thud when he puts it down on the counter. The coins inside, arranged in groups of tidy layers, are slow to settle back from clinking against…

Maz steps outside to the alley behind The Frayed Spine. *Welcome to the graveyard of soggy neglect.* She slinks under the roof’s overhang where a strip of dry ground holds out against the rain that has slowed to a drizzle. The back of her hand tosses her fringe aside as she gives a bitter chuckle…

Meg stands halfway up the rolling ladder by the side wall shelves. “How much longer?” The shelf she looks at, where her hand braces, of course, responds with nothing. Her mouth cinches at one corner as her other hand takes a paperback from a stack on the rung at her waist level. Its slick cover…

The Frayed Spine’s staff room, wedged sideways across from the counter, is a functional shoebox at best. There is just about enough space for three people, and only if they arrive in a chipper mood. The coat rack that stands proud in its overload by the door seems to be taking up the most room.…

A handwritten label that curls around a squat jar reads: ‘Ari’s Viper recipe (final v3 v4).’ It has its own maple shelf by a rainbow beaded curtain for a door. Its thick glass holds a dark green liquid. Ari stands at a steel workbench by the shelves. Latex gloves, which are stained green and yellow,…

The shop rearranges itself around the name. Maz takes half a step back and keeps her eyes fixed on the counter. *Mr. H? Is that the initial from the forms? So, it’s the boss. Thought he’d be… older. He seems to be carved from something colder instead.* Eli turns to Mr. H. His spine straightens…

As the Inferno customer disappears between the aisles, Meg turns her attention to Maz and Eli. Maz’s eyes lock onto her clipboard. Eli places the donations box on the floor closer to the shelves on the other side of the counter. Meg’s fingers drum on the hardback in her hand, three short taps of a…