I looked around cautiously. The place seemed deserted. What was so familiar? Not the tent or the angle of the light—a scent or a fleeting sound could often snag me. The interior hush was a relief and the smell of drowned paper one I was used to. The books themselves, then, the sheer, overwhelming number of them? Maybe I’d been brought up in a library? That made me laugh. Wait till I shared that one with Rubio.

“Can I help you?”

I shrank against a bookcase, then grabbed it to keep both of us from toppling.

“Whoa. Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

A youngish guy peered up from behind a desk stacked with old magazines and hard-copy comic books, very prized these days since they weren’t making any more of them. He had a round and pleasant face framed by cropped brown hair. An easy smile. “Hi. I’m Daniel. Looking for anything in particular?”

I reached for a neutral reply. “I . . .”

He stood up. “You okay? You look . . .”

“Yes. It’s . . . um. I’m okay.”

He came out from behind the desk, dragging his chair on squeaky wheels. Sitting, he’d seemed languid. On his feet, he was readiness contained. He rolled the chair toward me. “The heat, huh? It’s bad tonight. You’d better sit down.”

I’d broken out in a sweat. More overwhelm. Embarrassed, I glanced around. His chair was the only empty surface in the entire tent. But total strangers didn’t tend to be kind to me. If I sat, I might just burst into tears. “Thanks, it’s okay . . . I’m fine.”

“If you say so.” He seemed to be waiting for proof I wouldn’t faint or die on him.

“Really. I’m fine.” An enthralled gaze at his overflowing shelves might satisfy him. I needed more distance. “It’s just . . . I didn’t know there were so many books left.”

He smiled, like it had been said before, but he liked hearing it anyway. He had a nice smile, the kind where an ordinary face suddenly beams forth comfort and trust—so right away, I was on my guard.

Seeing me steadier on my feet, he reclaimed his chair and sank into it. I liked that he hadn’t pushed it on me too hard. He stretched his legs with a sigh. “I’ve sort of cornered the market, I guess—on the Island, at least. Not much interest in actual books these days. Even the digital kind.”

“Really?” True enough in the den, where reading wasn’t cool. Even so, I liked to imagine all those Joes squinting at ruined paperbacks in the secrecy of their bunks.

“Folks are too busy surviving.”

“So right.” Anyone this friendly had to be out for something. A sale, most likely.

He found his smile again. “You like to read?”

Probably safe to admit it to a guy who sold books. “Sure . . . um . . . well, yeah, I do.”