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In a small bookstore hidden between two taller buildings, the afternoon passed in comfortable silence.
Rows of shelves filled the narrow room from floor to ceiling.
Each shelf held books that had traveled through many different hands over the years.
Some of them were brand new, while others showed signs of age in their worn covers.
Behind the counter, the owner quietly organized a stack of recent arrivals.
Every now and then a customer would enter, slowly walking through the aisles while reading the titles along the shelves.
No one seemed to hurry.
In places like this, time moved at its own gentle pace.