A single, dim lamp illuminated the dark room as Charlie sat uncomfortably in her chair, fidgeting with her pencil. The room was silent save for the occasional car passing, the soft ticking of a clock, and the rustle of fabric as Charlie shifted. In front of her lay a thin notebook filled with hurried scribbles, a mug of nearly forgotten coffee to her right, and a small trash can to her left, filled to the brim with crumpled papers.

She grimaced as she took a sip of the lukewarm coffee and set the mug back down. Scanning the paper once more she furiously scribbled over the words, crumpling up the page, and throwing it away in a bout of frustration.

Charlie put pencil to paper again while muttering to herself, “Alright, from the top. Dear Dolores-No Dolly-Lola? You know what, Dolly. Dolly’s fine… Dear Dolly, I really like you and- dear god, I sound like a twelve-year-old!” Finally, she slammed her pencil down in defeat and stood up.

Shuffling to her bed Charlie laid eyes on a familiar book, the title reading The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, a story for children by: C.S. Lewis. With its cracked spine and frayed pages, it had seen better days but just the sight of it brought a smile to her face as she admired the worn cover and thought back to the moment she had met the girl she considered the love of her life.

She fought against sleep but ultimately slipped into unconsciousness, a fond smile tugging at her lips as the scene of her room faded to that of a cozy bookshop with shelves upon shelves of books that contained everything from religious texts and encyclopedias to children's books.

To most people September 13th, 2005 would be considered ordinary and uneventful but to two young girls named Dolores “Dolly” Fuentes and Charlotte “Charlie” Villalobos, it was anything but. Dolly looked up from her Spanish homework as a bell jingled signaling a customer.

“Dolores! Can you get it mija?” her mother called from the back room.

“Okay, Mamí,” Dolores answered back, getting up from her spot in one of the plush chairs often used for storytime when the kindergarten children visited on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Swiftly making her way to the front of the store from her spot she saw a girl about her age, fourteen, with tan skin, dark curly hair, and eyes so dark they looked black.

“Hello, can I help you with anything?” asked Dolly with a welcoming smile. This seemed to snap the other girl out of her trance and she quickly turned to look at Dolly.

“Oh, um, I was-um- I was just wondering if you had a book in stock?” the girl stuttered in response, a soft blush dusting her cheeks.

“Well, we have lots of books in stock, which one were you thinking?” 

“What was it again? The Tiger, The Warlock, and the Armoire?”

“Ooh, I don’t think we have that one. We have The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe but…”

“Aw… well I guess I’ll take that one instead.”

Dolly walked towards a nearby bookshelf inspecting the spines and pulled out the book and handed it to the other girl. “Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Your total is $12.50”

After the money had been exchanged Dolly spoke up once more, “I haven’t seen you here before. You’re not one of our regulars are you?”

“Nah, this is my first time here. No offense, but are you even old enough to have a job?” 

“Technically no, but my mom owns this place and she's doing some important paperwork so I took over.”

“Well I won’t keep you, I’m sure you have other work to do.”

As the girl turned to leave the shop she addressed Dolly one final time. “My name is Charlie by the way.”

“Dolores, but you can call me Dolly.”

They bid each other goodbye with a friendly wave and a kind smile.

An alarm rang waking Charlie from her slumber. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, inspiration struck her and she began to write. After rereading the letter, Charlie put it in an envelope and sealed it with a kiss. The letter read:

My Dearest, Dolly

No other endeavor has ever consumed so much of my time, both asleep and awake, and yet I cannot help but feel delighted by that fact. I’ve long debated on whether or not to confess this to you but it is my belief that true love should never be hidden. Or perhaps it isn’t love for I’ve never felt it before; perhaps I’ll never know but what I do know is what I feel for you now is the closest thing I’ve ever known to love.

I hope to be around you always even if it is just as friends for being apart from you is a punishment far worse than simply unrequited love.

With maybe love,

Charlie