She stood there in black, anxiously shifting her head and eyes among the antiques. The girl, about 19 was wringing her hands and looking at the jewelry boxes. She avoided looking into the mirrors as she opened each and cringed at the sound of the boxes. Every time the music started playing, the girl would promptly shut them hard. The girl sighed and moved through the disarrayed shelves, occasionally stopping and almost touching things. She reached the spot where dozens of books lay every way in and around the bookshelf. Here, she was much happier than before and much more relaxed. The girl jiggled out a book every now and then and added them to his arms. The books were mostly of poetry and short prose though a few tattered novels made their way there. When she could no longer hold anymore, she sat down and sorted through them, seeing if she could get rid of any. The girl could not, she had already fallen in love with their smell, worn out pages, and broken spines. She carressed them in her arms again as she got up. The girl turned to the front and made her way to the cash way. Half way to the cash register, she saw a beautiful old guitar with a red oak color to it. The sight caused her to instantly drop her books and burst into tears. She cried with soft whimpers, feeling alone, and it didn't look like was stopping anytime soon.