Disclaimer: I do not own POTO.
Meg walked into the little bookshop. For a few sous, she could buy pretty much any book in the shop. Not many people knew, but she had a fondness for romantic novels, especially gothic ones. That might've been where the ballet rat's enthusiasm in the opera ghost first began.
An elderly man ran the bookshop. Many people doubted his sanity, and Meg was one of those many people. When she was in a good mood, she would take pity on the poor man.
Today, Meg was not in a particularly good mood. Christine had just triumphed at the gala, and then somehow she had mysteriously disappeared from her dressing room. Meg's mother, Madame Giry, maintained that a certain Erik had been the one who had abducted the young ingénue. She didn't tell anyone this piece of information, though. Meg had only heard her mumbling it to herself while walking through the halls after Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny, Christine's childhood sweetheart, had reported Christine's disappearance. It was all so terrible gothic, and Meg began to wish that she were in Christine's shoes. Of course, Meg had always been slightly jealous of her friend, but she'd never really admitted it to herself. Now the envy was stronger than ever. Worst of all, Madame Giry had become closer to Christine than she was with her. Meg was her own daughter, not Christine. So Christine was orphaned and all, but Meg didn't have to become an orphan, too.
Meg quickly browsed through the bookshelves and selected a book. She headed up to the desk where the owner was sitting, reading, placed the book on the wood, and began to search through her purse for the proper amount of sous. Normally she'd simply leave the money on the desk and leave the shop without even speaking so much as a word to the old man.
"What's your name?" the owner asked bluntly.
Meg was startled by the usually quiet man's question, and she dropped her purse. As she gathered up all of her money, she scowled, "Why do you want to know?"
"I'm looking through a book of names. Don't you want to know what your name means?"
"Meg," she reluctantly grumbled.
The man flipped through the pages and muttered, "Meg which is short for Marguerite which is the French version of the English name Margaret. There it is! Your name means pearl."
"Pearl?" Meg retorted bitterly. "I could never be much of a pearl."
The owner looked up at her, surprised. "But you already are. You're beautiful, and I've seen you dance at the opera. You are a wonderful dancer." The old man said this so sincerely, that it brightened Meg's sour mood a bit.
"Thanks." She placed the money on the desk, took her book, and left the bookshop with a bright smile spread across her face.
Fin
A/N: Don't just read, review too!