His words settled everything.

Had I ever believed in coincidence? Had I for just one second thought that of all the bookshops, in all the towns, in all the world, he'd walked into mine by pure chance?

Perhaps. Perhaps I'd needed that lie, that kind of comfort bigger than the revolver behind my counter could ever provide.

Perhaps I'd wanted to believe that my past could have died with Clarence.

Or perhaps I just really wanted the last laugh.

"I wouldn't know about that, sir. I always preferred his comedies myself."

I stepped back without turning my head. Fingers were as good as eyes in the shop whose unchanging inventory I'd taken countless times. I reached for the book and slid it across the counter.

Dust was dancing in the air like a ballerina on stage in front of a full house.

Looking at him I forced myself not to remember, but the images were leaking through like the rusty copper pipes in my apartment. We were close once and I wasn't proud of the way it ended.

"Will that be all or did something else... catch your eye?"

Then again, I wasn't exactly ashamed either.