Scott found himself on the sidewalk in front of the shop, staring through the darkened window. His arms hung limp at his sides, his shoulders slumped, and he had no idea what to do now.
She was right there. Just on the other side of the glass, the despair on her face begging him to save her. His heart ached with his desire to get to her, but he didn’t know how; he was nearly a hundred years too late! Standing outside in the middle of the night he realized he couldn’t even get to the picture of her. He pressed his palm against the glass and closed his eyes.
“Whatcha doin’ out here, you fool?” Cyril was standing in the open doorway in a pair of pajamas and slippers, his sparse hair sticking up every which way. “Decent folks are sleeping at this h...
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