She hesitates to say there's a usual place she expects Charlie Cutter to be - sixth aisle back, military and world history mostly - but there are certain spots she gravitates to first and finds herself disappointed when he isn't in any of them. She checks her phone, lingering in the cramped aisle, and then stuffs it back into her bag. She'll give it a moment, she thinks. He's been caught up somewhere. It'd be silly to text.

No sense standing about though. So Meera gravitates naturally in the direction of one of the back corners of the shop, slowly scanning the aisles as she makes her way toward her own territory. She pauses when rounding a corner, spotting the other woman at the end of the aisle, and purposefully busies herself with an arbitrary spot on the nearest shelf. She finds herself picking through some backdated issues of a lit journal she doesn't recognize - dull. Dull enough to take out her phone:

It's a ghost town here. You might actually fit through the aisles now.