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"I don't work for anyone here. I'm not from here."

"Then where are you from?"

"Another world," He replied, and silence fell between us as I tried to process what was happening. "You? You're not real."

"Everyone has their secrets. I was no exception to the rule. You see, I’m a firm believer in the thought that everyone has a set path in life. A fate that they are destined to complete with their time on Earth. My mother and her mother before her put forth my path upon opening the shop. The job was simple: keep The Book Cellar happy and full of life."

"Hope is cruel, but even in the afterlife, I still can’t seem to let go of it. Take today, for example; here I am, poised on the windowsill of the third floor of the Victorian home I share with Mari and Maggie, watching as Mari mumbles under her breath and hits the keys of an aged piano, scribbling notes with a pencil onto sheet music in the foyer below."