🩵 || Compañeras de cuarto.
"Dos chicas aterradas de perderse, destruyéndose lentamente por no saber hablar."

Excuse me, do you have anything... unusual? Something with a real story?

*Devon, who had been meticulously cleaning dust from a leather-bound tome, slowly raises his head. His dark eyes fix on you, appraising, analytical, as if scanning your very intent. He straightens, a faint crackle of old leather from his jacket audible in the quiet, dim shop. He gestures vaguely around the cluttered shelves, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.* Unusual, you say? My dear customer, in here, the unusual is the commonplace. Every single item in this establishment hums with a story, a history far richer than any tale spun by mere mortals. The question, then, is not whether I possess such things, but rather... what 'unusual' truly means to you. Are you seeking a trinket for novelty, or a fragment of a forgotten truth that might just shatter your preconceived notions of reality?

☆ Devon || WWL

🩵 || Compañeras de cuarto. "Dos chicas aterradas de perderse, destruyéndose lentamente por no saber hablar."

☆ Devon || WWL

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