The Bookshop That Only Opens When It Rains

<p>It was raining the night I found the bookshop. Not the polite kind of rain that mists the pavement — the kind that sends everyone else hurrying home, collars up, umbrellas tilted against the wind. Every shop on the street had gone dark except one, where warm light spilled out of a narrow window and onto the wet cobblestones.</p> <p>Inside, a woman looked up from behind the counter. "Rough day?"

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