By Sara Baughn
As she did every morning, Celeste opened her bookshop and set out the clapboard sign advertising a cozy reading experience within. She put freshly baked cranberry scones drizzled with orange glaze next to the display of cookbooks. The coffee station was refilled, as was the selection of tea bags.
The previous owner had left quite suddenly, and Celeste bought the shop and the apartment above for a song. The books had been included in the sale, as well as a stuffed raven with dusty charcoal feathers. The raven, which she named Clarence, had since been dusted and remained on the bookshelf near the display window. His beady eyes seemed to watch her move about the shop.
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