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୭̥⋆*｡ — ACT I. CHAPTER 03 ✧ return of the stranger
after your final class of the day, you'd left to go to the bookstore. this time, however, xinyan was pestering you. she'd wanted to accompany you, for the sole reason of her boredom.
since when are you into bookstores? i thought you didn't like them, you signed to her, as xinyan tugged at your sweater sleeve. the dark-haired girl looked deep in thought for a moment, with her eyebrows knitted together.
stop making that ugly face, you signed again, with a teasing, silent laugh. xinyan only furrowed her brows again, signing back.
i'm bored, and i don't want to do the essay for my history of music class yet! wouldn't ya like a friend to come with you? besides, i won't talk too loud this time-- i'll sign everything i need to say!
you could hear her southern accent even in her signing-- you thought that was impossible.
fine, you'd mouthed. xinyan smiled victoriously.
"so what bookstore we headin' to? does this one have one of those fancy shmancy coffee shops like the one in town? is it more like a library? are there those people that have a dyin' duck fit when ya talk too loud?"
you pinched the bridge of your nose, and blow a strand of your h/c hair out of your face. no, it's just quiet, you sign.
you'd remembered the way you got there the first time-- you'd remembered how you walked straight from university, turned two left corners, and one right corner. you'd remembered the peaceful aura around this place-- the wanwen bookstore, the place where you'd found the novel you wanted. maybe you'd find something else there today-- you pondered about xinyan's earlier notion about a coffee shop. that day, you hadn't explored the bookstore much. maybe today, you would.
this is the place? xinyan signed with a questioning, yet ecstatic look. you smiled and nodded-- pushing open the brown double doors, to reveal that pleasant, silent place. the dark-haired rocker smiled too, telling you that it looked nice in here, through sign language. she then said she'd follow you wherever you wanted to go.
a thought crossed your mind-- you were tired of signing, so you pulled out your phone to text xinyan instead.
what's your history essay about?
your old friend fished out her phone from her leather jacket pocket, scowling at the message. you laughed, knowing xinyan was a procrastinator.
we have to write about the changes popular music in the 50s and 60s yknow all that jazz
maybe we can find a book here that can help u out !! you replied. xinyan wasn't opposed to the idea-- in fact, she thought it was a good one. her signature enthusiastic grin crawled onto her face.
