Two Redheads Walk Into A Bookshop [Amalea/Invite]

[Stella Jane (DELETED 10037)]

W E A R I N G

SJ grunted in frustration, slamming shut the book she'd been reading, her forehead landing with a thump on its front cover. Her brain was fried, she was beyond exhausted, and she was fairly certain she was experiencing an adult form of sleep reversion. Not to mention the stress eating. Turning her head so her temple rested on the gilded lettering she glanced guiltily at the empty plate full of cookie crumbs. She'd eaten the entire batch of cookies Mrs. McAvery had left for her tonight in less than half her shift. Her grey blue eyes reflected the storm she was fighting inside: Nearly time for her monthly meeting with the good doctor, and all she had to show for herself was a handful of unhelpful languages.

Picking up her head she pushed her eyeglasses on top of her hair and rubbed her face more than a little dramatically. Coffee. Coffee made everything better. Pushing her chair back SJ moved to the back of the small house-turned-bookshop into the kitchenette. Somehow she hadn't yet made a fresh pot, so she took her time making it, allowing herself a moment not to think about this newest project or its nearing deadline. Instead, she started thinking about a new Harry Potter fanfic idea involving a very gay Ginny Weasley during her career with the Holy Head Harpies.

Five minutes and one steaming cup of black coffee later, SJ shuffled out of the back room and into what she lovingly referred to as the Room of Requirement. This was the only room in the entire shop dedicated to books on the most randomly specific subjects. Some of them were old, some of them were from five years ago, but all of them could make her laugh. There was one, in particular, that dissected one singular passage of Othello so precisely that a person could almost believed the author when she finally concluded that Othello himself was a member of the Illuminati. She had never seen anyone buy a single one of these books in the year she'd worked here, and for that she was grateful. She could rely on the consistency of the books in this one room. Even when the rest of her life was chaos.

With a smile and a bit of her burden lifted, SJ made her way back into the front room, plopping herself back into her oversized chair. She settled in and pulled yet another book about yet another dead language from her stack of fifteen or so and cracked it open.