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... f the old wall clock and the gentle rustle of pages turning. Amelia sat curled in her usual corner by the window, her gloved fingers fiddling absentmindedly with the edge of her sleeve, her eyes drifting to the door every few seconds.
It was already late.
Maybe... maybe he wasn’t coming again today.
"Miss Lia," Mr. Thomas said gently from behind the counter, adjusting his spectacles as he began to close the ledger. "We’ll be closing soon."
She looked up, startled, ...
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