Slipping on his coat, Rowen Patel rushed out the front door of his apartment in downtown New York and pressed the button to bring the elevator up. He could see his reflection in the silver doors, his black hair, glasses that had never fit his face, long coat, going down to his waist, and the dark grey scarf that was wrapped around his neck. His sharp facial features made him look menacing, yet he wouldn’t hurt a fly. When the bell rang, announcing that the elevator was there, he prepared himself, readjusting his grip on the book he was holding close to his chest. The elevator doors opened, and he stepped in, pressing the second lowest button, labelled ‘ground’. Since Rowen lived on the 28th floor, it was quite a ride down.
Hearing his own breath in his ears, he waited, nervously. Elevators had always freaked him out. The idea of putting your life in the hands of a mechanical rope and pulley, it scared him. Then again, everything real scared him. That's why he loved books so much. They provided him an escape from the real world and his fears and worries. He hadn’t had many friends in middle and high school. Or ever.
The elevator doors opened and he stepped out. The lobby of his apartment building had a high ceiling with a chandelier hanging down, that Rowen constantly thought was going to fall on him, and two tall glass doors leading outside. Like all of the streets in New York, it was a busy street. The cold air stung his nose as he hurriedly walked across the street, turning right, towards an alleyway that served as a shortcut to the library. He was going to return a book. When he got to the end of the alley, he was surprised to see that there was a new shop at there. It was as if the shop had built itself overnight. He looked down at the book in his hands, To Kill A Mockingbird. He turned it over, running his hands through the pages. The library could wait. He decided to go into the mysterious new shop.
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