#Chapter84
From the doorway, a runway was created, leading right up to the counter. Either side of the path, shelves formed labyrinths. They wove and interlinked in a way that almost hurt my eyes. Patches of cloth, marked with strange symbols, were placed on the tops of the shelves like doilies, and incense sticks burned from boat holders that were scattered among them.
/"You./"
The single syllable rang out, slicing through the blanket of silence with sharp precision. Stumbling back a pace, a game of ‘Where’s Wally’ broke out. Didn't take long to find the source. Barren of customers, the only other visible person was the woman that sat behind the counter. And it hardly took issuing a case to Sherlock to figure out that she was talking to me.
