вЂњDo you think thatвЂ¦,вЂќ Carrow paused, thinking over his next words carefully. Amelia shifted in her chair, subconsciously sitting up straighter.Д¬arrow sighed, and rubbed at the stubble on his chin. CarrowвЂ™s face was stern, like a fatherвЂ™s. IвЂ™ll be sure to come during business hours next time.вЂќД«ut her laugh was short-lived. вЂњNo, I mean, why did you need to come back?вЂќДЄmeliaвЂ™s eyebrows furrowed and she laughed. вЂњI dunno, maybe he fell in love with me.вЂќ She joked. She feigned interest in her sleeve, picking lint off it. I could tell he wanted to ask me to stay but I had to be back.вЂќ Amelia stated. ДЄmelia spent the better part of the next hour recounting her months of travel.Д¬arrow listened intently, as he always did, but he didnвЂ™t make any comments or inquire for more detail like she was used to. вЂњToo late, IвЂ™ll be back before you know it!вЂќ And Amelia was gone. вЂњI could practically hear the bell fire off in your head. Her friend had wished he experienced something. She was antsy, and quite honestly uncomfortable with not having anything to do. But it had been days since Amelia jumped through the timeline. Wish I could have seen some of it for myself.вЂќ HeвЂ™d said. вЂњThe Romans were so inventive, donвЂ™t you think? ItвЂ™s fascinating. The last time Amelia had seen the old man, he was leaned over his heavy desk, preserving some book about Ancient Roman Innovation. The girl couldnвЂ™t help the grin on her face. I was there for five whole minutes before a slummer ripped the pocket watch off me.вЂќ She clenched her fist in emphasis.ДЄmelia watched CarrowвЂ™s thin fingers dog-ear his page, then he set the book down in his lap. вЂњAnd the Romans are some seriously shitty people. She knew exactly how long sheвЂ™d been away.Д¬arrow whistled, вЂњThatвЂ™s a long time for a trip.вЂќ The time-traveler pretended to think for a moment, just for the theatrics, of course. But for you, how long has it been, Watson?вЂќДЄmelia sank deeper into the chair. She waited for him to ask her: Where have you been Watson? Tell me, what have you seen?Д¬arrow chuckled lightly, then turned a page. His wrinkles deepened when a small smile played at his lips. James Carrow didnвЂ™t look up from the pages before him, but Amelia could see the glint of amusement in his eyes. The memory of the crisp London air faded away as her body warmed into a comfortable haze. She stuck her hands out towards the fire. вЂњYou wouldnвЂ™t believe the day I had, Carrow.вЂќ

вЂњ Ahh., вЂќ she sighed, and stretched wide before plopping into the twin armchair adjacent from him. She smiled, straightened her coat, and made her way over. She heard the fireplace crackle at the back of the shop, and an old man reclined on a worn armchair, his nose buried in a book. A maze of bookcases peppered the rest of the shop, each filled to the brim with stories and pictures she could spend a lifetime or two reading. Novels and newspapers piled on top of each other along tables and short shelves at the front. The bookstore was quaint, and messy in its own charming way. She stepped through the door, and the bell rang once more when it closed behind her. The familiar smell of old books and firewood hit Amelia like the first day of Spring, and she closed her eyes briefly, taking it in. The bell above the bookstoreвЂ™s entrance chimed as it opened.

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