Finding out where Christine lived and work hadn’t been hard: asking around a little to the few people in town they knew, wondering around a little and there they were. This was the bookshop. Chéri had no idea what was written on its front, if they should knock, enter or just turn back and whether Christine had even meant what she had said. People had the habit to show off around them and Chéri had learnt not to overestimate their sincerity. But this place was proving odd and they were probably a little bored with that Whitby actually offered.

Plus, they could use a friend who wasn’t depressed, criminal and/or felt obligated, so they decided to take a step closer. Knocking would still require a little bit more work.
They were wearing their pastel blue suit today, still not in possession of new clothes, but they had slowly gotten used to be stared at.