✩ SIT DOWN BESIDE ME ﹒ ʲᵒⁿᵃᵗʰᵃⁿ ᶜʳᵃⁿᵉ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

─ chapter iii ; close

hearing the click of the lock wasn't enough. every time y/n locked up the store for the night, she had to try the knob, see if for some reason the dull, old key had failed her.

the knob resisted her turn, and that set her at ease. good night, see you in the morning, bookstore.

she eased into the driver's seat, the key in her hand, the ignition waited. lingering for a moment in the dark surrounding her car, she didn't want to leave. sitting behind the counter and reading all day beat what she had to deal with back at her apartment by a long shot.

the car was like a purgatory that she didn't want to leave. it was the space between working all day and sitting at the kitchen table looking at assorted bills and paperwork.

wary of the other couple of cars on the street, wary of gotham as a whole, she knew she couldn't stay there all night long. the drive home couldn't be long enough, it went by in a flash of songs softly crackling from the car's speakers and buildings brushing by in a blur.

the apartment complex was a short, wide brick building. she put her car into park as she thought about what awaited her inside.

the shitty paint job on the walls, uneven streaks and dried up drips hid in some places if one looked too closely. the light fixtures that worked on their own schedules, notably the light above the sink which always needed a gentle smack before the bulb lit up, and the more than occasional flickering. and of course the leaky faucet, loud enough in the silent apartment to be a bother if y/n didn't have the air conditioner's howl lulling her to sleep.

home sweet home, being evicted might not be such a bad thing.

maybe she'd have been able to afford something better if she'd stayed working at the asylum, but that wasn't an option. psychology was a passion of hers, but the cold, bone-white walls of the unforgiving building located in the narrows to be difficult to work in.

she'd found that hearing what people had to say as they eyed the shelves of the bookstore, watching the ways they walked, examining their choice in authors was more interesting.

did they shop alone or with friends? would they read a few pages before they purchased? was it the synopsis or the cover of the book that'd gotten their attention more? there was so much to learn just from that alone. the asylum didn't compare with the din of hushed voices and pages turning in the bookstore.

not to mention one coworker in particular - dr. crane. an incredibly strange person to work alongside. there wasn't any good way put it, mostly because her feelings on him seemed to have no basis, but she'd never felt quite right around him.

he was always professional and polite enough, at least in her personal interactions with him. his reputation seemed to contradict with what she'd seen of him. none of the her fellow staff members had anything good to say about him other than the fact that he was good at what he did. nobody could deny that.

the bookstore was a step up in every way, other than the paycheck.

time to get out of the car, stare her bills in the eyes and think about how to deal with all of it, deal with the shit life's been handing her for so long now.

in the very least, the trek to the door across the parking lot was easy. the building may have been shabby and almost dilapidated, but she'd never been given a reason to worry as she crossed the rows of cars on her way inside.

and the stars in the clear, still-light-blue sky felt so close. they never felt close in gotham, too much light pollution. tonight seemed to be different, like y/n could grab a handful of the white specks and take them into her apartment with her.

y/n reached for the door handle of the building's entrance, awaiting the unwelcoming flood of warm, musty air from inside when she opened the door and stepped inside. but it never came.