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hips beneath her unflattering skirt. The bulky sweater gave no sense of what her tits were like but that didn’t even matter.
    Tits or not, she was lovely to look at.
    She didn’t say anything and I assumed I was to follow her. She climbed the stairs and walked between rows of shelves until she finally stopped and reached up to grab a book. She handed it to me and I smirked when I saw the title.
    The Giant Book of Nothing.
    “Huh. Looks like a humdinger of a read,” I replied flatly.
    Layna cocked an eyebrow. “Humdinger? I don’t think I’ve heard that said this side of 1950.”
    I chuckled. It was stilted and awkward. It didn’t seem to quite fit the mood or the situation. I didn’t know how to act around this oddly arresting woman. Smiling felt foreign. Laughing felt obscene.
    “Call me old fashioned,” I said, clearing my throat as she murdered my laughter.
    Layna didn’t move. She stood there, staring up at me with those big, sad coal black eyes. “So you work here, huh?” I asked lamely.
    If I could have jumped into traffic I would have. After being mortally wounded by total humiliation.
    Layna’s mouth twitched in that almost, but not quite smile that didn’t seem to belong on her face.
    “It would appear that way.”
    I looked around, the book still in my hand, struggling to find something to say. What had possessed me to follow her like an idiot to begin with?
    It clearly wasn’t to engage in witty discourse over the meaning of life.
    “I work across the street,” I told her after an infinite amount of silence.
    “I know,” Layna replied, surprising me.
    I swallowed, loud and thick.
    “Oh really?” I squeaked. Yes, I actually squeaked.
    “I’ve seen you go into the music shop twice a day since I started working here,” she explained, not seeming embarrassed by her admission that she too engaged in stalker-like behavior.
    It was straight and simple fact.
    It should have weirded me out. But it didn’t
    Not in the slightest.
    “I’m a luthier’s apprentice. George owns the shop and he’s letting me learn under him so I can open my own custom shop someday,” I found myself explaining, not sure why.
    “I don’t listen to music. It burrows too deep. I feel it in my bones,” she said softly, and I had to bend towards her so that I could hear the words.
    Normal people would have found her statement off putting. Odd. Uncomfortable.
    We were both way past normal.
    “Maybe you haven’t listened to the right kind of music,” I replied just as softly. It was such a cheesy thing to say. But for some reason, saying it to Layna didn’t feel like a crap come-on.
    It felt real. Maybe the realest thing I had ever said.
    Layna nodded as if she understood exactly what I was talking about. As though she heard me.
    Every interaction with this woman was beyond strange.
    “Maybe you’d like to come see my stuff sometime,” I offered, my casual confidence disappearing under the weight of her gaze.
    Layna chewed on her lip. Small, perfectly white teeth nibbling on plump, red flesh.
    “Tonight. After I get off work,” she said, seeming to make an important decision in her acquiescence of my suggestion.
    Typically I left the studio at six. But for her, I’d wait.
    “Okay,” I agreed.
    Layna inclined her head toward the book still in my hands. “Are you going to buy that?”
    I handed it back to her. “I’ve had enough nothing in my life.”

    Margie and Tate left two hours ago. Margie had asked three more times whether I’d go to the party later.
    “Thanks, Marg, but you know I can’t,” I told her for what felt like the hundredth time. She looked unhappy. I kissed the top of her head and patted her back. “Go get yourself a piece of ass and put a smile on that beautiful face.”
    She had flushed, and I could tell she didn’t know whether to be upset at my dismissal, or flattered at my compliment. But I knew that she would get over her hurt feelings and that we would be fine. I was good at