Silas laughed, a genuine, warm sound. “Ah. The heartbreak one. That’s for when you’re ready to cry, not just bleed.”
“I think I’m ready,” Leo said.
The shop smelled of old paper and mildew, a sacred incense. The owner, a man named Silas with a scar through his eyebrow and a kind heart, watched Leo over a mug of tea. He’d seen a thousand Leos drift through. This one, though, had a harder light in his eyes. the cure albums
“The what?”
His hand stopped. A trio of album covers, side by side. Not a coincidence. A summoning. Silas laughed, a genuine, warm sound