The quiet rustling of pages, hushed whispers and the lavender scented candles glowing softly.
The same people caught in a loop of back and forth between the columns of books.
The countless ideas popping in his mind in a futile attempt to ward off the inevitable boredom.
After weighting the pros and cons of his 9 to 5 job, Castiel Novak had come to realize he was caught in a vicious circle of a love-hate relationship.
Working in a bookshop might be the most common dream of any avid reader, but given the fact the customers' needs should be the main concern, it let little to no time for Castiel to catch up with reading, let alone writing his own novel.
Upon hearing the doorbell ring he continued his reading, not wanting to lose the rare opportunity to finish his book. After some shuffling behind the shelves the quietness was laid over the shop once again, only for someone to clear their throat and break the silence . Looking up he was met by a pair of green eyes and a charming smile.
"Hello! How could I help you?" Castiel said, leaning back and squinting at the unusually sharp dressed man.
"I'm looking for a copy of the Bible."
"Well you should try at a church, not the local bookstore."
"With that confidence you'll have no problem giving me your working program and number then."
This time Castiel was at loss of words- no comments, no snarky remarks and definitely no response in voicing his unwillingness to give his number to a person he's exchanged a few words with. As if on queue, the man's phone started to ring and the tension in the air quickly dissipated.
He frowned at the screen for a second "Agent Winchester."
He looked through the window, examining the cars passing "I'll be right there."
With those last words the man took off hurriedly, not bothering to say goodbyes or even to look back at the astonished cashier who watched his movements with wide eyes. He scoffed . How can someone be so intrusive and then do a full 180, changing the focus point in a second?
Castiel ran his hands through his black hair, making it stick oddly in all directions, giving him a tired, disheveled look and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. "Only a few hours. A few hours and I go home."
He checked the phone for any messages from his family. On the top of the screen with glowing letters it wrote "5th of September". It was the same day his parents arrived in America about 20 years ago and since then it became a family tradition to celebrate so that meant dinner with his parents and brothers. He felt bad for wishing to be canceled, but the tiredness and stress from day wore him off making him dream about the coziness of his own place.
The hours flew by and Castiel found himself lost in thought while he was walking down the street. Why other with the routine? With the traffic, the same music playing over and over again in the small shop, the books that were already perfectly arranged on the shelves? Was he ambitious enough to pursue his dream?
All the wandering came to a stop when he reached his house. It was surrounded by several police cars and an ambulance and the people from the neighborhood crowded around them in hopes to catch a glimpse of what was happening in the interior. It was nothing but chaos.
Ignoring all the protests and the warnings from the officers, he ran in the house only to see the lifeless body of his father laying on the floor, a single bullet wound going straight in the middle of his forehead. Tears started pouring freely from his blue eyes and his vision blurred, all the noise and agitation around him becoming an indistinctive sound as everything seemed to collapse in slow motion.
When his vision cleared once again he was met with the same pair of green eyes he saw earlier this morning, now holding an uncharacteristic concern, maintaining a soft, worried expression. It was the only grounding point he had so he let himself fall into the pain and sadness once again.