Yang Jeongin

挨拶

The bell above the door jingled softly as a new customer entered the bookstore. She looked up from organizing a shelf of novels, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. It wasn’t unusual to see new faces—her shop had a steady flow of regulars and occasional wanderers, but something about this visitor made her pause. He was quiet, almost hesitant, standing near the poetry section with a notebook tucked under his arm.