October 22, Tuesday

THE COOL air nipped at my cheeks as I pedaled into Irving. The town seemed unusually quiet, as if a somber mood hung over the quaint streets.

I pulled up in front of Coleman's Grocery, then chained my bike to a nearby rack. The bell above the door jingled cheerfully as I entered, a stark contrast to the subdued atmosphere inside.

Coleman was nowhere to be seen, and his office door was closed. I approached, eggs in hand, and gave a gentle knock. To my surprise, the door swung open, revealing Coleman hunched over his desk, his back to me.

In his hands was the scrying mirror I'd seen before. He was staring intently into its dark surface, his lips moving silently. The door squeaked and he jumped, then whirled around with wide eyes. The mirror clattered to the desk.

"Josephine!" he exclaimed, his voice an octave too high. "I didn't hear you come in."

I gestured to the mirror. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt..."

Coleman let out a forced laugh, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Oh, that old thing? Just checking my hair, you know. Bit vain in my old age, I suppose."

The lie hung heavy in the air between us. I nodded, playing along. "Of course. I've brought some eggs, if you're interested."

"Ah, yes!" Coleman said, seeming relieved for the change of subject. He examined the eggs, then pulled out his receipt book. "These look wonderful. Tell you what, I'll give you an extra dollar per dozen. Times are tough, after all."

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Coleman."

He waved a hand dismissively, but I couldn't help noticing how it trembled slightly. "Think nothing of it."

As he tore off the credit slip, I felt the tension in the air. Coleman's eyes kept darting to the mirror on his desk, as if afraid it might suddenly speak up and contradict his story.

"Well, thanks again," I said. "I should be going."

Coleman nodded, relief evident on his face. "Take care now, Josephine. And... be careful out there, you hear?"

I left the grocery store, my mind whirling. What had Coleman really been doing with that mirror? And why did he seem so on edge?

Lost in thought, I found myself walking towards Blakemore Books. As I approached, I saw a familiar figure standing by the door. Dora, Franny's daughter, was carefully hanging a wreath of autumn leaves and white lilies.

"Dora?" I called out.

She turned, and I saw tears glistening in her eyes. "Oh, Josephine. Hi."

"I'm so sorry about Wayne," I said, the words feeling inadequate even as I spoke them.

Dora nodded, wiping at her eyes. "Thank you. It still doesn't feel real, you know?"

I stepped closer, taking in the beautiful wreath. "Is this for the memorial?"

"Yeah," Dora sniffled. "The service is tomorrow in the city park. I thought... I thought Wayne would want something here at the shop, too."

"It's lovely," I said sincerely. "He would have appreciated it."

Dora managed a watery smile. "Thanks. I just wish..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"Will the store be closing?" I asked gently.

She nodded. "Probably for good. Haven't you heard? Books are a dying business."

The irony wasn't lost on me.

"Thank you for letting me know about the memorial," I said.

She nodded, then sprang a new well of tears and walked away.

I was touched by her reaction to Wayne's death. And I wondered if I died suddenly, if anyone would cry for me.