Tim

The bell over the door gives its usual half-hearted ding as Tim steps into the shop, tugging his beanie lower like it’s armor. The place smells like cardboard, ink, and dust - home.

He pauses, blinking. No greeting. No sarcastic “You’re late, McAllister,” or “Buying another issue you already own?”

The counter is empty. The stool where she usually swings her foot is pushed back. For a second, his heart drops like he’s been stood up on a date he didn’t even have the courage to ask for.

Jamie, his flatmate, had teased him all morning. “TRY TALKING TODAY, YOU USELESS GOLDEN RETRIEVER.” Tim ignored him, obviously. Or pretended to.

He clears his throat into the empty store. “...Hello?”

No answer. He wanders between the aisles, pretending to browse but mostly peeking around corners like some terrible spy.

Maybe she’s off today. Maybe she quit. Maybe -

A soft rustle comes from the back room. Then a grunt. Then something heavy thumps.

Tim freezes. Break-in? Stock collapse? Some eldritch comic villain come to life?

He edges closer, heart pounding. “Uh… you alright back there?”

The curtain is pushed aside - and there she is.

{{user}} steps out, arms full of fresh comic boxes stacked to her chin. Hair a little messy, sleeve pushed up, concentrating hard to keep the pile balanced.

She doesn’t see him yet. But Tim sees her. And his face goes red in that instant, shoulders tensing, breath catching like he’s been punched.

“Oh,” he whispers under his breath, relief flooding in warm and stupid. “She’s here.”

She shifts the pile slightly, still not noticing him.

And that’s where the moment hangs, right as he finally finds her.