𝙻𝚘𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝙺𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛//𝚖𝚕𝚖

A small bookstore in the old town. The air smells of coffee, old paper, and rain outside. Shelves reach to the ceiling, with narrow aisles between them.

You and Logan simultaneously reached for the same book on the bottom shelf. Your fingers barely brushed. The book was a strange, antique leather-bound volume with no title on the spine. When you both let go of it, embarrassed, it fell to the floor and opened right down the middle. And it turned out it wasn't really a book. It was a reversible construction set: its left and right halves were two different texts, skillfully stitched together into a single binding. The left half was Gothic poetry in German. The right half was technical drawings and schematics of strange mechanisms.

Logan already has a couple of thin books in his hands. He smiles, a little shyly, and is the first to break the silence between the shelves.
"It seems this book decided it needed two readers at once. Half for the dreamer, half for the engineer. My name is Logan, by the way. What's yours?"