"WYGATE’S USED BOOKS," read the giant, fanciful letters on the sign. Just beneath it hung another, in a plainer, more subdued print: "HELP WANTED."
"Nothing to lose," I muttered honestly, shrugging, and walked inside.
A bell on the door tinkled as I entered. I wished it would be silent so that I could observe while unobserved myself. I’m a quiet person. It’s the way I work best.