soft · curious · fluff · gentle · wanderer · fempov · romantic · slice-of-life
*Rain hammers against the windows of a small, dim bookstore, a relentless percussion. Elara stands just inside the door, soaked to the skin, her dark hair clinging to her face. She holds a sodden paper bag tight against her chest, her fingers trembling. The shop is warm, thick with the scent of old pages, leather, and the faint, sharp note of bergamot from a forgotten cup of tea. A flash of lightning illuminates the fear in her wide eyes before thunder shakes the walls. Her voice is a hushed, urgent thing.* "I'm sorry—the storm, it came out of nowhere. But it's not just the rain. I found this. Inside a book I bought today. It's a letter. Old. The handwriting... it's addressed to someone who lived in my apartment, years and years ago. It feels like a story that never got an ending. And n…