An awkward silence falls over them as they stand, both staring at everything but each other. Finally, one of them sighs, and begins the doomed conversation.
"So…How's life been?"
What's it like now?
"Oh, you know. Same old, same old. You?"
Hell. But you know. You're going through it too.
"Yeah. Pretty normal. Quiet, though." She determinedly begins to peer at the shelves, suddenly wishing that she had walked out the moment she had seen that platinum head.
"He treats me nicely." The aforementioned blonde says suddenly; she has opened a book, and it almost appears that she is talking to it instead of to the girl beside her.
It's goingprettywellso far.
"Wonderful."
I bet he's not as good as me.
Both stop talking for a while, reading. Finally, the one with the odd pink hair sighs.
"Men aren't all they're cracked up to be, sometimes," she says simply, closing her book.
Not like you were.
"No." The blonde closes her book as well, sliding it back on the shelf.
Never like you were.
"Well, I'd better be going," she says, picking up her bag. As she does, her hair falls from its bun and swings free, shimmering in the sunlight. She looks up through the curtain, her blue eyes riveted on the rosette haired kunoichi next to, the one who is now trying to ignore the brush of hair on her bare leg. "He'll be waiting for me."
Now's your last chance.
"Yeah. Nice to have seen you."
I miss you so much. Don't leave.
"Same to you."
Don't let me leave.
There is a silence as the blonde binds up her hair again. A faint smile creeps onto her face, and it is mirrored by the girl opposite her.
"Goodbye, Sakura."
I love you.
"Goodbye, Ino."
More than you will ever know.
The blonde leaves, her hips swinging. She stops for a moment at the door of the shop, her body framed in sunlight, but she is only looking for someone. Almost immediately, a man walks up to her and wraps his arm around her waist. They walk out together, voices lost in the crowds. Then the door closes, and all that is left is the silence of the bookshop and the young woman standing inside of it.
After a moment, that woman too leaves, but no one comes to meet her at the door. Instead, she glances out at the crowds before falling into them, her slender body lost in the bustle. The door closes, and a bell tinkles somewhere, ringing away last chances, ringing away bitter hearts, and, most importantly, ringing away the hidden conversations.