The pleasant smell of aged paper fills your noise as you close the door behind you. Tall bookshelves reach to the ceiling with books stuffed in every corner. The heaps of books look like they could fall apart any moment, but have instead found a great static balance.

There's a counter with more stacks of books, a couple of them lying in the middle with their letters exposed. There's nobody reading them however, and the entire shop seems deserted.

As you walk around your breathing matches the tempo of the books around you, casually reading covers as you go. A gap in the otherwise cramped bookshelves catches your eye. Above a row of little red books there hangs a CorkBoard with about a dozen clippings on it.

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