The bell rang inside the small bookstore you worked in, signalling the entry of a new customer. “Hello!” You chimed, turning around the corner of the checkout desk towards the door to greet them. “What can I do for you?”
As you peered behind one of the bookcases, your eyes fell upon a familiar face. "Oh, hello again,” You bowed slightly, smiling brightly. “Looking for the usual?” The boy was a regular, though you didn’t know his name.
He always came in the same apparel: a jacket, jeans, and a ball cap that pressed his bangs down into his eyes, making his face indiscernible. He was always soft spoken and rarely involved himself in small talk, but came by the store every friday, looking through the store’s poetry and classics section for new material.
He was quiet, but always very considerate and kind, bringing you a cup of tea from the coffee shop down the street once a month or so. In response to your question, the boy nodded briskly, keeping his gaze towards the ground.
After you had helped him select a few books of his choosing, you scurried over to the register, ringing up the cost and placing his books in a bag. As he took the bag from your hands and began to leave, he stopped himself. “Have you ever read anything from Frantisek Halas?”
The boy’s sudden voice surprised you. The fact that he had spoken nearly caused you to jump out of your skin. You stuttered over your words, in shock that he had initiated conversation. “I- I, uh, can’t say that I have.” You let out a short, nervous laugh, giving him a bright smile.
"I thought I saw a good collection of his at the end of the isle.” His gaze was kept low as he pushed the handle of the glass door, about to leave. “You should read it sometime.” The bell rang again, signalling his exit.
You released a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. His odd speech had caught you off guard, and soon, your curiosity got the better of you. Walking down the poetry isle, you located the book containing Halas’s poems.
Your eyes widened as you saw a bright yellow bookmark sticking out from the top. Upon pulling it to it’s marked page, a small slip of paper fell to the ground. Your eyes flickered to the title of the poem before you felt the urge to pick up the piece of paper from the ground.
𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓘 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝔀 𝓬𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓢𝓪𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓘 𝓻𝓾𝓷 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝔂𝓸𝓾
𝓢𝓾𝓻𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓘 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓻𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓗𝓾𝓻𝓽 𝓫𝔂 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓘 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓷 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼
𝓓𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷 𝓫𝔂 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓘 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓰𝓻𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾.
You felt your heart beat faster after reading, and immediately bent down to pick up the note. “Would getting tea together one day be alright with you?”
You brought your hand up to your lips to hide the giddy smile on your face. You knew that the next time you saw him, you would be more than happy to accept his date. But, as the world began to weigh down with the oncoming frost, so did your heart.
The following friday, the boy did not return. Two weeks later, as you turned on the evening news, it was reported that he had gone missing.
A month after that, and the police had counted him as dead.
Ty for reading! Be on the lookout for part two. The poem was by a poet called Frantisek Halas so I didn't write it myself. All credit to him. He is a great poet.
I am putting my J-Hope mafia book on hold for now due to writers block. I actually have this story planned out so don't worry. Ik I have a tendency to not finish stories so I apologize.😂 luv u little beans💕