Ivy wished she could go back in time and un-wish being invited to PEN dinner. She strutted around with Michael, her mother and the newly engaged Anastasia and Hans, she smiled and nodded and chatted and had never been more bored in her life. She couldn't wait for it to be over and just to hit the bed. It wasn't all because of those people. She grew up surrounded by them. She was one of them. It was mainly because of Hans. She never liked him and could only handle him in small doses. In her mind, she referred to him as chameleon. He knew how to be whatever the situation required. Normally, Ivy would have admired that if not for the inkling that he was not capable of being genuine even around closest people, most importantly Anastasia. She had made a mistake on commenting on that not long after her sister introduced him to the family. After that, Anastasia didn't speak to her for a month. So, she snuck out of the party, she'd never done that before, and went online.

'My sister is getting married. She's been living for a year with a guy who shares fashion sense with my mother and therefore must be universally accepted by the family.'

She just wanted to say something, to someone. To simply put those thoughts out there. She had the feeling that one little note, void of too personal details, would be enough for TruestBeliever to understand. Was she getting attached to this mystery person more than she should? Probably. Did she care? Not in the slightest.

Henry lived near enough to the bookstore so he rarely took subway. When he was a student he had to commute a long way, and the train became a sort of moving study for him. There, he would watch people go in and out and think about their stories. Some ended up in his short stories. That was when his writing didn't consist of chunks of disconnected chapters and a first sentence 'Poetic opening line goes here…'. Now, he would ride the subway only once a month, to the port where Killian's boat had been docked for the last 2 years. But every now and then, a subway ride would bring something magical.

'I read somewhere that things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, one way or another. And today it sort of happened. Do you know how many scarfs I lost in the subway? I stopped counting after a while. I often seem cursed when it comes to that. I was about to get off on the 9th when I saw a scarf – shade and pattern just like mine. If you ever pass by the homeless guy carrying a 'Save the fairies' sign, you will see it around his neck (and I do believe he means actual fairies, wings and all).'

From: SeattleGirl67
To: TruestBeliever
Subject: Flour

'I tend to return late home from work. I pass by this little bakery when a truck pulls up and pumps about a ton of flour into underground tanks. The air is filled with white dust, and it's absolutely amazing. Like those scenes from the old movies when the main character emerges from the mist. Or maybe I'm just overworking myself and have started hallucinating.'

The doorbell rang. Was it 9 already? It was Michael, they had a date night. More precisely, a stay in night.

He kissed her hello. "What's that?"

"Oh." she looked in her hands, "A book."

"I hope that is not for tonight because I brought wine. Are you doing some research?"

"No, I just felt like reading something."

"Since when do you read books?"

"I'm in the book business, Michael."

"I mean I haven't seen you read novels. For fun."

"I figured should get back to reading."

Two days ago Ivy had recieved a mail.

'Confession. I have read 'The little prince' about 200 times. I read it as a kid and even now, with every new read, I discover something fresh, silly and profound at the same time. I'm always in agony over what will happen with the rose and the prince. Read it. I know you'll love it.'

She was half way through. It had some great parts sure, but she didn't exactly love it. Maybe she lacked that childlike imagination it required, or maybe she just had too many real-life things drown her dreams to make believe in anything resembling magic.

As the time was passing, the big, gray, ugly building near his bookstore was becoming something else. Henry wouldn't have paid much attention to it until it opened, but one morning Alice ran into the store.

"Guys, you have to see this."

Henry and Bo scurried after her. She was standing in front of that gray building that now had 'Belfrey Books superstore. Coming soon.' written in big, bold red letters, staring at it in awe.

Well, that was just what he needed. Henry thought and sighed.

"A bloody nightmare." Bo voiced his thoughts.

"It has nothing to do with us." he had to stay optimistic, "It's big, impersonal, overstocked and full of ignorant salespeople."

"But they discount."

"Thank you, Alice. You always know what to say. The point is they don't provide any service and we do. It's good actually. You know like there's a flower district, this will be the book district. If they don't have it, we do."

"And vice versa."

"Absolutely!" he exclaimed way too cheerfully.

Sadly, the optimism (both real and false) was dwindling as the day was progressing. By the time he got home, he was practically desperate and couldn't stop complaining to Violet.

"When you are finished with Belfrey books, 'The Enchanted Forest' will be responsible for bringing joys of magic back to the western civilization."

"It's sweet of you that you're trying to cheer me up, Vi." he wrapped his arms around her, "Thank you. What's that?"

"Oh." she squealed and sat by her new baby as she liked to call it, "It's a laptop that runs on solar energy. Look! Isn't it amazing?"

"Yeah, it feels so familiar, like I've seen or heard about it. I wonder…" he walked to the bedroom and returned with her other laptop, "Oh, yeah. Here it is!"

"I needed a back-up."

"Sure."

"I write columns about preserving energy and saving the environment. If I have to live in a technological corporate world, I will at least do as little damage as possible. And what were you gonna say?" Violet quickly diverted the attention from herself.

"Um... When?"

"Before."

"Nothing."

"Come on."

"It's- I'm just wondering about my work and all. You are out there writing and exploring things you genuinely care about. And what is it that I do exactly? All I really do is-"

"All you really do is…" she took his hands, "This incredibly noble thing."

"I don't know. I-"

"Henry, please." she used the serious voice. Henry knew better than to try to interrupt her, "You are a lone rider, riding proudly, bringing the magical worlds of books to life. Your store is the oasis in the corrupt desert of commerce."

"I'm a lone rider?" he liked that, it sounded heroic.

"You are a lone rider." she opened her new laptop, "I should write that down, that was good."

That really was good. Violet's support meant much to him. However, it couldn't help him sleep soundly. It was the middle of the night and he had already watched three episodes of Vikings, rummaged through the fridge twice and went through his last years sales numbers. He logged onto his account. What's the harm anyway. Writing to SeattleGirl67 was really the only thing he had the will to do at that moment.

'Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, valuable, but small. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So goodnight, dear void.'

This chapter was filler-ish but they meet in the next chapter.