Nothing in the shop leaped out at me, and the writer snapped the book closed sliding it back onto the shelf with a loud sigh.

“Is there anything you’re looking for in particular?” I asked, closing my own book and notebook before sliding them under the counter. I didn’t need questions about them.

The woman turned to glance at me with a frown. “I’ve lost my magic…”

I blinked and noticed the Cat stretch next to me.

“Your magic?”

“Yes,” she said, taking several steps closer, her hand clutching her bag tightly. “I need to figure out a way to make my character feel real again. For the magic in my stories to be almost touchable.”

Relief rushed through me, and the Cat curled back up into a ball.

“Do you believe in magic?” I asked, thinking quickly.

“I used to.” She frowned, and her eyes drifted upward to the skylights. “I don’t think I do anymore.”

Taking a gamble, I turned to the espresso machine and started making a latte.

“Why don’t you have a coffee and tell me about it? Tell me why it feels like you lost your spark…”

Her face softened, and she approached the counter.

“I usually don’t drink coffee, unless I’m writing,” she whispered, like it was a secret.

“Then this can stay between you and me.” I very quickly steamed the milk and poured it into a to-go cup. Something inside me said she wouldn’t stay for too long after the conversation.

Once I added the espresso and a little sugar, I set it in front of her.

She leaned against the counter and took a sip. After a moment, she began.

“It’s like I always felt like magic hid just around the corner. Like it was there, real, for me to touch, only just out of reach. And now… that’s gone.” She took another sip of coffee. “I miss that wonder.”

“What if I told you this shop was magical, and you just didn’t know it?”

“If only.” She chuckled and smiled softly. “I have this feeling that I just need to find the right book, or story, to light my spark again.”

“I can tell you a story,” I whispered, leaning close. “It’s about a magical bookstore and a tiny book dragon who lost her way. The tiny book dragon hid in the stacks, letting none see her but the shop's Cat and the shopkeeper. Both kept the dragon's location secret, for fear that something bad would happen to the tiny dragon.”

The lady chuckled and sipped on her coffee. She glanced around the shelves with a look.

I pointed to the tiny hole above the bookshelf, near the entrance. “That’s her tiny hideaway.”

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The writer blinked a few times and then laughed out loud, yet something clicked into place.

“Oh, you got me there for a couple of minutes,” she said, with a bright smile. “I’m going to keep looking through the shelves and find something interesting to read. Thank you for the coffee.”

“Of course! It’s our little secret.” I leaned closer. “Just like the book dragon.”

Again she paused, like she couldn’t believe me, but something in her eyes felt different. A faint golden glow flickered inside before she turned away. She headed back to another shelf and moved a little quicker, as she read the spines on each of the books.

The Cat rubbed up against my arm, and I scratched under his chin.

“You walk a fine line,” he whispered.

I shrugged and didn’t respond as I petted him. I sipped on the last of my latte, and wondered if I should have another.

More caffeine was always good, yet I remembered what the Professor said about it. That it interfered with magic. Given all the studying and practice I wanted to do, I should hold off.

The bells on the door jingled and it snapped shut behind the woman, locking.

“I hope I helped her.”

“The book didn’t say what she needed help with, only that she would show up,” grumbled the Cat. “At least she’s gone now.”

“Anything else today?” I asked, checking the time on my phone. It was early still, with plenty of time before lunch.

“Yes, deliveries, and that tiny human.”

“Molly?” I asked. The little girl and her father hadn’t been in for a long-time. As for deliveries, given the number of things I’d ordered over the last couple of days, my bank account felt it. Still, I couldn’t help myself, not with gifts.

“If she’s showing up, then the shop isn’t…” My voice trailed off as some shelves sank into the wooden floor while others rose up, including the entire children’s section, which hadn’t been there before. The table floated up out of the wood until it stood just perfectly in place in the middle of the area.

While the shop changed in small ways sometimes, it usually didn’t do a full reshuffle with me standing here.

The door unlocked right before a small form crashed into it, sending it flying open.

Molly dashed into the space with her pigtails flying as she raced directly to the children’s section. “Book day is the best day!” she chanted as she headed to the shelves.

A few minutes later her father came in the door, much less exuberantly. “Molly, what did I tell you about racing ahead?”

“But this is the bookstore! It’s the safest place in the world…”

I chuckled as he waved at me before I pointed at the coffee machine. He nodded, looking tired.

I started an Americano for him and a small hot chocolate for Molly.

“You only get to pick out one book,” he said, kneeling next to her.

“It’s buy one get one free,” I called out as the Cat glared at me.

Her screech of joy made it totally worth it as she pulled several books off the shelves and started going through them one by one, to figure out what she wanted to get.

“This one and that one.”

“More dinosaurs?”

“Of course! Dinosaurs are amazing.” She picked up the unchosen books, carefully putting them back into place. “They go roar! Just like dragons.”

By the time they made it to the counter, both the coffee and the hot chocolate were ready to go. Molly’s father placed the two books on top and I quickly rang them up. One of them came up free.

He handed over his card, but appeared exhausted.

“Are you doing okay?” I asked, trying not to stare at the dark circles.

“Long week of travel,” he said with a frown. “But I’m home now.”

“And he is going to read to me, and then I’m going to read to him,” stated Molly, with all the certainty of her young age.

“That sounds like a delightful day…”

“After school and work, we will do that,” he said with a chuckle. “School first.”

“School is boring, unlike books,” she said, carefully grabbing her drink.

The books her father slid into a small backpack he was carrying, and given it was bright green with dinosaurs on it, I assumed it was hers.