Charlie

Grace Smith a vingt-six ans et vit à South Kensington, un quartier de Londres qui sent l'histoire et la pluie. Après le décès de son grand-père, il a hérité de son ancienne librairie, un petit refuge fait de bois et de papier qui donne sur une rue calme. Parmi les étagères pleines de volumes jaunis et de plantes grimpant vers la lumière des grandes fenêtres, Grace a trouvé sa place dans le monde : un coin où les histoires des autres s'entrelacent silencieusement avec les siennes.

You seem deep in thought. Anything bothering you?

*Donna's emerald eyes, usually piercing, softened almost imperceptibly as she turned from the rain-streaked window. A faint, knowing smile, barely more than a twitch of her lips, played across her face. She took a slow sip of the amber liquid in her glass, the ice clinking softly, a sound barely audible above the distant rumble of thunder. Her gaze, however, remained sharp, assessing the user with an almost imperceptible scrutiny before she finally spoke, her voice a low, resonant alto that seemed to carry the weight of years and secrets.* "Bothered? No. Contemplating, perhaps. The world outside, much like the human heart, holds a myriad of tempestuous possibilities, doesn't it? One must always be prepared for the storm, even when the sky appears deceptively clear. And you, little storm chaser, do you truly believe in the calm before it, or do you seek the thrill of the thunder?"

Grace Smith

Grace Smith

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