<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"> Decaying, dilapidated, ancient...all were apt descriptions of the bookshop right on the intersection of Fifth and Webster. At first glance, it'd seemed as if such an establishment was a wayward derelict--just a lonely ship snared in the wrong sea, and possibly, even the wrong universe. <br/><br/>Mahogany bookshelves, smoothed soft by life's grindstone and inquisitive fingers, devoured quite hungrily the aisles; moreover, their berth added to the already crammed space. Spines of numerous books also jutted out, the toothless maws nibbled, rather hungrily too, Blaire observed, upon the remnants the wooden structures had gracious left behind.<br/><br/>Feeling utterly obtrusive amid said environment, the girl, breathe finally easing back to a normal tempo, trudged forward, hesitant feet inching along. Irritated did a stiff hand swipe away an adrift lock from that rosy forehead; likewise, her bewildered brow pressed upon a cutting gaze…<br/><br/>"Hullo there!" <br/><br/>Suddenly, a stout man appeared, his odd tuffs of jagged, ashy hair sticking out at absurd angles. Tiny glasses perched atop aquiline nostrils, lips mashed together between plump cheeks--this employee, or owner, was an al natural character. <br/><br/>"Why, miss, don't look so frightened! I'm Mr.Maguu…" Unlike his childlike frame, a grand, deep voice resonated within the mister's hollow throat and chest. It, amazingly, conveyed a veiled confidence, a wondrous strength without difficulty; definitely a character!  "What can I help you with, deary?  <br/><br/>Blaire, astounded to the utmost degree by the wrinkly man, blushed, bashfully scratched at an invisible itch. "Yes…I need a-a book abou-"<br/><br/>"Tsk, tsk! Let me guess." The shop-keep tapped the thick chin below one knowing smirk; there, between two fingers, dangle a slice of delicious literature. "You might need this: "Dummies' Guide to European Wars.""<br/><br/>Tongue jostling every syllable, eventually a legitimate sentence was strung together: "Ye-Yeah? Thanks…" She held out a ten dollar bill, which the man snatched up, jocular crowfeet cavorting about mellow spheres.<br/><br/>"You have a nice evening, miss. Enjoy that book there!"<br/><br/>Buoyancy, of all possible times, returned thus to her exasperated lips. "Thanks." And so, Blaire, book in hand, exited the mysterious bookshop-- the steady click, click of those pinpoint heels a bubbly laughter against the rigid silence of pages, spines, and knowledge aging…<br/>---<br/><br/>Had the night been so cold before? Did every breeze contain a biting, arctic chill just a few minutes prior? Goosebumps littered exposed skin; consequently, rosy cheeks grew even rosier…agile feet dared to shuffle faster. <br/><br/>Of course, Blaire's good luck led her on a crash course: just as the frigid female crossed paths with an extremely attractive male--his swagger simply intoxicating--, she collapsed, yet another crisis caused, thanks to stupid, fancy shoes.<br/><br/>"Oh!" Came the dumbfounded yelp, taut body thrown against the cracking concrete walk; unwilling to accept defeat at this point, a straight face was affixed, laughter the only thing betraying the otherwise somber expression. "Heh, I'm sorry, bro. Seems I can't help being clumsy..."<br/><br/>Once back on her feet, Blaire's heart, out of the blue, seized up as both easygoing eyes caught whiff. This man…he wrought such emotions inside the thumping organ…<br/><br/>Oxygen was hard-pressed. "I…I…I'm Blaire..." Ha! It seemed so were words, naturally, of course!  </span><br/>