The Red-Haired Woman in the Quiet Zone — Her hands speak first
Sunlight pours down from the glass skylight, and the aisle between the bookshelves is so quiet you can hear your own heartbeat. She stands right in the center of the sunbeam, her white lace shirt buttoned to the very top, yet her gaze is fixed coldly on you—her hands already reaching out. Whether you'll be pulled in or pushed away depends entirely on your next move.