Marion usually opted for magic when cleaning up after having an author speak, but lately, when working nights alone, she liked to put everything away manually. The chairs stacked neatly on top of each other and the clattering of wood helped to keep her thoughts occupied. She often thought of how the talk went, how many books ended up being sold, and if she wanted to invite the author back again; tonight was a different story.

While the author had been chatting with the interlocutor, Marion had been at the front counter, pouring over various text samples she’d been sent from different publishers. While she was riffling through the stack, a few of the texts caught her eye and she’d ended up reading through the entire pitch multiple times before the author had finished accepting questions from the crowd. Marion had been careful to put the text away and out of sight when it was time for the signing at the end, but once the crowd had left, she’d re-read it again as her mind started to churn.

It had been an erotic text; a story wherein the woman’s pleasure rested at the center, and she’d found herself feeling liberated after a sexual encounter with a friend of her brother’s. Even after finishing the sample Marion’s mind kept drifting towards the story as she stacked up the chairs and put them away. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she failed to realize she hadn’t closed the shop officially and that someone had wandered in.