David, gazing at spines, remembered that day. He’d wanted to buy and read and learn how to draw everything. Colin had soaked up ancient legends and personalities with the delight of someone who loved the craft of a good tale and had spent years pretending to be a reckless brainless fireflower-high plaything. That pretense had blurred into reality for a while, they both knew, but Colin adored compelling narratives and their weavers.
His vision blurred for a second. Dust in his eyes. Colin must’ve sold the ruby.
Ariana Robinson left satisfied as ever, having generously tipped him though he might’ve refused if given the chance. She touched a nodding scrap of snapdragon in the garden as she passed, as if recalling flowers on a stage, and smiled. David smiled, too, and books caught his eye. H
