A black dress hugs her body, dark eyeliner and eye-shadow painted along her skin. The heels wrapped around her ankles boost her height and she carries herself professionally, with poise. A black Marc Jacobs bag hangs over her shoulder, containing nothing but a cellphone, a few hundred dollars in cash, a pack of cigarettes (for Alex) and a gun — she could never be too careful, not in her area of work. 
     Stepping into the book store, Piper feels a familiar sense of calm wash over her. The endless buzz of the city makes her head ache and being in such a quiet space is therapeutic to her. 
      Purposefully, she walks towards the New Releases shelf, leaving behind a trail of floral perfume. On one side she stands, rifling through the books. Bingo. Lengthy fingers grasp at the glossy cover and she feels someone else, tugging at it. “Uh, excuse me,” she calls, agitated. She doesn’t have time for shit like this. “If you could just let go — that’d be great.”

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