The dark wood bookshelves sagged under the weight of their ancient volumes.  Dust was made visible by way of the light filtering through the ceiling window as it danced its way to the well-worn floor.  The bookstore had been there seemingly since the beginning of time and was full of comfy chairs that would swallow you whole.  It was in one of these chairs that our favorite blonde witch was witnessing a fabulous swashbuckling sword fight between Jack McKracken and some nameless unbathed adversary when she heard someone's voice at the old bookstore's counter.  Not a familiar voice, but one that drew her attention away from the ancient pirate's adventures.

"Pardon, madam," the sky-blessed face uttered, leaning over the counter to catch the shop keeper's eye.

The lady behind the counter was counting her money like a dragon hoarding her treasure and ignored the young man.

The man ran his fingers through his already tangled dark hair in frustration.  Indeed he resembled a wild madman, but that was what attracted Charlotte to him to begin with.  He had the look of someone who couldn't sit still for a single moment--tapping his feet, pacing around, and attempting to read the paper, though he couldn't quite concentrate enough on the words and resorted to skimming the pictures.

Charlotte's eyes traced along his strong jawline to to his flawed but beautiful face.  His eyes showed his cunning spirit and looked all the more devious for they were paired with slanted dark eyebrows.

Most importantly, he didn't look much older than herself.

Our lovable trickster gently placed her book to the side of the large overly-cushioned seat and lightly skipped to the counter beside the boy.

She looked up at him, "You're very tall," she commented.

The man looked back down at the not-so-short blonde.  A corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked smile.  "Thank you."  The boy ran his fingers through his hair again, this time more for vanity than anything else.  "You're quite blonde."

Charlotte curtsied, "Merci, monsieur."  She shot him her classic mischievous grin and held out her hand.  "Charlotte Déviant at your service."

He took her small pale hand into his own large chestnut hand and shook it, "Pleasure," then motioning to himself, "Rocco Triste."  He frowned at the lady sitting at the cash register and turned back to Charlotte, "Do you work here?"

"Yes and no," she replied without skipping a beat, "What do you need?"

Confusion flashed across the Rocco's face, but he lifted up the ancient book in his hand, "I just need to buy this."  He whispered to Charlotte, "The old bat's not giving me the time of day."

For the first time in Charlotte's young life she wanted very much to help someone.  However this gracious act would not stop her from going about it her own way.

Charlotte squinted at one of the library ladders lining the store.  The ladder responded to the witch's glaring command and slid straight through a stack of books set precariously by the shelves.

All the occupants in the store jumped, apart from Charlotte, and the store keeper ran to the scene.

"What was that?"  Rocco asked flustered as a cat stroked the wrong way."

"Hmm?"  Charlotte guided him to the counter, where she rang up the book.  "Oh," she smiled.  "I think you'll find that that particular book is today's daily free book."

The man inspected the leather binding in disbelief, "Are you sure?  I can't imagine anyone giving away a book this old!  Are you positive you're not thinking of another book?"

Charlotte pointed out a tag on the book labeled, "Free."

"Positive.  Now, you'd better run home before I find otherwise, don't you think, Monsieur Triste?"

"I could have sworn that wasn't there before," Rocco scratched his head, whispering to himself.  He looked back up at her and shrugged, "I must be going crazy."  He stowed the book in his leather bag.  

"Will that be all, Monsieur Triste?"

"It's just Rocco," he situated his bag across his sturdy chest and started for the door before turning around again and asking, "Do you really work here?"

"What do you think?"  She propped herself up on the counter with her elbows.

Rocco simply smiled.  "Well, then how will I get in touch with you again?"

The young witch's nose crinkled in a grin, "I think you'll find a way."

Rocco nodded, waved goodbye and headed out the door.

As he was walking back to his building later that day, he reached into his book bag, brought out the leather-bound volume and opened it to the first page.

"In case you can't find me at the bookstore:  253 l'Avenue de Le Chat."

Charlotte thought she had won over Rocco that day, but in fact it was Charlotte who had been enchanted...she just didn't quite know it yet.

In the car seat you trace alphabets of animals on glass.

The sun is a crash of bright bulls through the trees,

A flipbook of light.

Your mind chiseled out like a cave

The words cut through like water.

Mastodon, aurox, megaceras,

Disaster, rain, and reverence.

Songs rise up like seasons and winnow like death.

Voices, like old bones, fill the first cathedral.

The car runs forward, and the sun behind.

You are finally at the beginning.