Maz steps out of the staff room first, already halfway into her coat.
Don’t mention the mirror.
Eli follows three seconds later, jacket on, head down, and makes a beeline for the display table.
Normal. I can do normal. Ish.
Ron stands in front of the till, back leaned on the counter, eyes on the rain outside. With his apron nowhere in sight, his shirt looks far too neat to have ever been hidden beneath anything that needed tying. Each flip of the coin across his fingers takes a turn in time with each tap of Meg’s nails on the doorframe.
“Closing time.” Meg’s voice rings out with a volume more appropriate for hundreds rather than just the four of them in the shop.
The streetlamp reflections on the rain-streaked shopfront glass show the street beyond blurred in gold.
Eli keeps his hands busy with the ‘Staff Picks’ stacks. He pushes a paperback square. Another goes with it as the empty spaces between the books start to line up.
His chest doesn’t move; breath, if there was any to begin with, goes silent.
I’ll align the gaps up top, square the ones in the centre, spread out the bottom ones… What am I setting this up for? They obviously need to be reordered. Them being not reflective is a plus.
Meg watches him for a full three-book arrangement’s worth before slapping off the lights with a loud sigh.
Maz’s eyes follow the overhead lights as they blink out, row by row.
Feeble fluorescents’ feeble gesture. Which, also, is not your problem. Still, better than to think about what just happened.
The shop keeps the glow of the streetlamps through the panes as the only light.
Meg slings her bag over her shoulder.
“Oh, come on, Eli. You can do that tomorrow. Pub’s calling.”
She tosses her ponytail back. “Unless… any one of you managed to get a hot date lined up that beats cheap booze and worse decisions?” She casts a look around the shop. It aims too high to stumble upon any of the faces. “Didn’t think so.”
Eli slides the last book into place as the words tumble out before he can sort them.
“Wouldn’t miss watching you lose at darts, Meg.”
Meg throws him a look.
“I don’t lose. That said, if you pick a good tune, I could let you win agai–” She clamps her mouth shut.
Eli’s smile twitches to make an appearance, only to fade and recover with the tug of his jacket.
‘Again’? Ha. Obviously, I’ve not gone out of my mind. I’ll add that to the bunch of things I’ve forgotten. Moving… Yeah, no. “What do you mean by ‘again’?” His fingers air-quote the word.
Meg clears her throat and snaps her attention to Maz.
“You fancy your odds, Maz?”
Eli tilts his head behind Meg as his brows draw together.
Maz’s still across the shop by the staff room door, locked in a stalemate with her coat sleeve.
Smile. Say something she expects. She doesn’t need to know you just spent ten minutes staring at reflections doing strange things. Or wondering about mysterious comments.
She shapes her face with a grin that stretches in a slant on one side and wiggles with nerves on the other.
“I don’t play the games where rules happen to twist mid-throw.”
Meg’s chin tips downwards as she paints on a smile when she glances up at her.
“Oh, rules never stay put. Players always give them a little nudge.”
Meg begins walking the length of the shop towards Maz, boots thumping on the worn wood floor.
Ron’s fingers continue rolling the coin as he watches them not even attempt to find their way to the door.
“Rules or no rules, The Archive’s always got a tab open.” His other hand swipes the keys off the counter into his grip.
“The owner’s a soft touch for a good story and a hopeless cause for collecting debts.”
Meg steps close to Maz until Maz has to look up to meet her gaze.
“Though some debts don’t get paid with a simple coin, and stories get vengeful when you break your word.” Meg lowers her voice.
“Careful whose name you put in the margins.”
Maz holds the stare.
Did she accidentally swallow a riddle book? Meg’s just being Meg. You’re fine. You’re always fine.
“Well, sometimes the footnotes are the parts that change everything.”
Meg’s eyes try to map Maz’s face.
Maz yanks at her trapped sleeve.
“Read some Pratchett.”
Meg barks a short laugh that becomes a quiet giggle before zipping up her coat in a single sweep.
“Come on, then. Nobody wants the rain to think we’ve forgotten about it.” She turns towards the shopfront.
Ron pockets his coin and pulls on his jacket. He reaches the door. His fingers pinch the ‘Closed’ sign’s edge and hold it there for a second after he flips it over and steps back.
“At this rate, we should be so lucky if the pub lets us back out.”
Meg pulls the door open and exits the shop.
The bell gives its last one-way puff for the day.
Ron catches the door before it swings near to close and steps outside but keeps a hand flat against the glass to hold the way open. He doesn’t react when the rain needles his face.
Eli moves from the display table to join Maz by the entrance.
Maz’s fingers pause on the cold doorframe. She notices her reflection in the glass in the corner of her eye and looks away into the street.
Don’t look. Don’t check if it’s moving off. Keep on walking. That’s all you have to do.
He steps in, focused on her skewed mess of a coat. The sleeve has swallowed her hand, keeping one arm stuck in a fabric dead end that drags the collar down. They look up at each other before he starts working the sleeve. She lets out a sound that might pass for a chuckle.
As he reaches to untangle the twisted cuff, his hand finds hers to guide her through. A sudden prickle of static runs between their fingers and startles them both.
Maz’s hand at last meets the air.
What? That was stronger than before.
His chest rises slightly with his own breath. He keeps a hold on her sleeve so light that it could slide off if either of them moved at all. His next inhale goes in with a rasping sound.
Ah, this again. Okay, not great, but I sure wasn’t running, let alone too fast. But, yeah, keep breathing, I guess.
The rain against the windows sounds louder than drizzle usually does.
His fingers thread through hers as he slips into a sort of breath pattern that is almost convincing as ordinary.
She squeezes his hand while burying her mouth in her own shoulder to cough.
His heart is racing. Yours too? That wasn’t there before. It was just his pulse by the mirror. Pretty sure. Or maybe you didn’t notice–
Her heartbeat jumps, making itself known, in her fingertips.
Well, you notice it now. Not when you really needed to count. Perfect timing. Stupid body.
Both nod towards Ron in thanks and step outside hand in hand.
Ron closes the door and pulls it with his weight forced onto it for the last sliver to make the latch click into place. It sends a shudder through its pane and both display windows.
Eli’s eyes lock on the pavement to avoid looking at their jittering reflections in the glass as they pass.
“Let’s find out about this new pub. Again.”
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