“What a twist of fate…” The book vender said wistfully as she walked through the empty house. She had finally saved up enough credits from selling vintage books out of her car and was looking for a place to set up real, steady business. This house belonged to an abandoned residential zone which was recently turned into a historical zone to increase local businesses in the area and to preserve the few homes that still stood.

The house smelled of a sweet musty scent and had large windows to let in light, through two French doors the book vendor discovered a backyard spanning a quarter of an acre. She gasped with pleasure, pondering various ways to use the yard for her book shop. When she explored past the deck which had collapsed at least a few centuries ago she found that past the end of the expansive yard was a forest filled with broken, disused homes and a small creek choked with litter. It would be a great deal of work to clean up the backyard so it wasn’t as much of a jungle, and to clear up the creek but she smiled defiantly as if to declare her goals were remotely possible.

Back at the ancient house, the book vendor explored further, discovering the only piece of furniture left behind by its last inhabitants many centuries ago. It was a desk of wood, handmade and covered unevenly in a resin which was its only saving grace from the passing of time.

She also noticed in every windowsill were glass bottles, most empty and stripped of their labels, but others had plants thriving inside of them that she’d never seen before. Some had bones, cracked and crumbling within the bottles. More had dried flowers, and others were painted vibrant colors which danced across the floors.

Within her heart she felt a faint twinge, knowing that with a little love this home, which was far from dead, could be brought to life. She bought the house, spending weeks cleaning it and filling it with furniture and books. At long last, her business opened, and it thrived.

The desk was gone for it was too unstable, but the bottles remained, letting in light and aesthetic. Customers, upon buying their books, could go out into the backyard and have reading picnics, book clubs fought for the best patches of grass. The creek flowed steadily, small children stood in the ankle high water to cool off from the warm sun.

The former book vendor peered out of a window, she sighed pleasurably knowing that this was perfect. The house loved her and she loved it in turn, many decades passed by and the book shop was handed from mother to daughter, each time the mother reminded the inheritor to never abandon the old home so that it would never be lonely again.