Emily hesitated, the silence of the shop pressing in again—thick with sandalwood and something now saltier, like sea air hiding just out of reach. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck. She didn’t know how to explain it—not really.
She had felt it since childhood. That tug. That pull. The endless ache when she looked at the ocean, as if it were calling her back to something she couldn’t name.
“I… I want to become a mermaid,” she whispered at last, the words feeling strange and sacred on her tongue.
The woman’s smile deepened, knowingly.
“Ah,” she said softly, standing with a slow grace. “Of course you do.”
She turned and, without another word, walked off down one of the long aisles of shelves. Emily hesitated only a moment before following, her steps light, heart hammering.
She glanced once over her shoulder as the desk behind them faded into the silence. They walked the length of the aisle before abruptly turning through a small stone arch, sunken between the wooden shelves.
They passed through a corridor lined with mismatched doors and shelves that leaned at strange angles, filled with objects that pulsed faintly in their presence—curios that seemed to shiver or sigh as they walked past. The old woman moved with purpose, her footsteps silent on the worn stone beneath them.
They turned down into another passage—this one much narrower, barely wide enough for the two of them, the woman continuing with supprising pace. They came out into another large room filled with rows and rows of shelves.
The woman turned into one of the isles, the tall wooden shelves looming up on either side. She walked slowly now, moving down the isle, looking at the shelves thoughtfully. "Aha!" the woman said gleefully, before stopping sudenly and reaching up to one of the top shelves.