Drip... Drip... Drip...

Sarah listened to the rain outside the shop window as she stared absentmindedly into space, her work forgotten on her lap. She had come a long way since the Labyrinth, which she had convinced herself was a fantastic dream.

Within a week of her "episode" she had diligently packed away her books and toys to be given to charity, replaced the frilly canopy and childish sheets on her bed with sterile white cotton, and had painted her room a dreary but sensible shade of beige.

She had gotten herself a job at a local bookshop that had recently opened and began to set money away for college. The owner was a nice man of about 65 named Al. He had opened the shop to "retire" in a nice town far from the city having originally lived in New York and he was more than happy to have the extra help. Sarah would stop by for a few hours ever night after school. She even spent every Saturday morning cataloging the books.

Time passed but unfortunately for Sarah, it did not bring her good things.

Shortly after her graduation, Toby was in a car accident and had to go through several strenuous surgeries. As the stress from this weighed upon Sarah it also weighed upon her father's marriage to Toby's mother. Karen had decided that it was for the better and packed up and moved back to California to be with her mother taking Toby with her. After the medical bills and the divorce both Sarah's father and his funds were exhausted leaving him broken and Sarah seemingly futureless. While she was happy with her job and she was not resentful, she had longed to go to college and see the world.

And so here she sat, in the familiar, worn, red-velvet armchair that sat behind the counter and next to the window of her beloved bookstore watching the rain cascade silently down the glass panes. Shaking her head she shifted her attention back to the calculator and paperwork in her lap. She punched numbers with the end of her pencil and scribbled figures down as she had hundreds of time before. Sarah now did most of the ordering, stocking, accounting, and other paperwork for the store and enjoyed it. It was calculated and exact and everything worked with checks and balances and for some reason that made Sarah happy.

"Sarah, are you in there?"

Sarah looked up, startled. She had completely missed Al walk in and take off his coat. She glanced at her watch and, sure enough, it read 8:15, on time as usual. On time being fifteen minutes late, of course.

She shook herself back to reality and replied. "Sorry, I just dozed off for a sec."

Al nodded thoughtfully and proceeded to shake the rain from his umbrella as he spoke, "you seem to be doing that more often these days, Sarah, perhaps you need a change. Why don't you go on vacation?"

Sarah smiled wryly and looked back down at her work doodling little circles on the corner of her paper. "That is the last thing that I need. You know this job is all I've got, and rent sure as hell doesn't pay itself," she muttered the last part to herself.

Al looked at Sarah disapprovingly but spoke nothing more on the matter. He simply continued the conversation by regaling her with his experiences of past vacations, spinning some wild story about staying in a castle in the mountains with a lovely and mysterious woman named Ellanora who taught him how to read crystals and look into peoples souls. He always had imaginative stories to tell. Sometimes about a group of gristly men who took him traveling, sometimes about having to overcome great obstacles to rescue innocent girls from danger, but mostly he loved to speak of his sweet Ellanora and always with an overly dramatic and slightly wistful voice.

Later that day, after having been cheered considerably by Al's tales, Sarah was standing in the doorway to the stock room with her hands on her hips in determination. The room was absolutely bursting with cardboard boxes and piles of manila files and old newspapers and other odds and ends. She had been meaning to clean it out for ages and with the new order of books she had just sent for they would sorely need the space. So she rolled up her sleeves, sent Al out to the post office and to get some lunch, and got down to it. Within the hour she had two piles of boxes, one with what would go back into the room and another considerably larger pile of what would end up on the curb. As she pulled out the last few boxes she wrinkled her nose up in confusion and inspected the contents of one box. She lifted several older leather-bound books of various colors from their encasement in cardboard before the color drained from her face. In fact, the shade of her face was comparable to the very pages of the book that so perturbed her. She dropped the books in her hands and carefully, hesitantly lifted another book from the box...

...And promptly screamed.

Sarah was sitting on the counter staring accusingly at the box as Al walked back into the shop. Though she felt like running away, or screaming again, or passing out, she just sat there, very calmly, and waited for Al to come back and explain.

So when he walked in, she spoke without removing her gaze from where it was focused when she began her questions. "Al," she started slowly and deliberately, "What the hell are those?"

Al followed her eyes and found the box of books. He walked over to them and picked one up, fingering the gold inlay thoughtfully. It was a long time before he spoke.

"Sarah," he started, placing the books down on a table, "I assume you've had a run in with some portion of the Underground due to your reaction. Though I can't figure what could have you so shaken-up..." He paused when he noticed her reaction.

She had closed her eyes and was shaking her head vehemently as Al spoke. Only when he placed his hand on her shoulder did she regain some of her composure. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath before she spoke.

"It wasn't real... I dreamed it... my things, they, I must have just dreamed it," she spoke desperately and though she looked at Al her voice was distant as if she was trying to convince herself.

Al nodded knowingly and sat down in the armchair next to Sarah as he spoke.

"Well," he said resolutely, "then I think I have some explaining to do. Are you ready for this Sarah?"

Seemingly stirred from her reverie she looked Al square in the eye and nodded determinedly.