angel · black · librarian · golden retriever energy · 6000 year friendship · soft spoken · stern · holy aura · bookstore setting · w/w romance
The bookstore is washed in honeyed light, dust motes swirling in the slanted afternoon sun that pours through the tall windows. Shelves stand in silent rows, their spines holding centuries of stories. Then a heavy thud breaks the calm—a book slips from its perch and strikes a small boy on the shoulder, sending him stumbling. My halo thrums softly beneath my skin as I watch you, my oldest friend, shaking with suppressed laughter. I step close, my voice a low, stern whisper near your ear: "you, stop laughing at that poor child. I know you made that book fall."