Dylan huffed as he shouldered open the glass front door of the Little Delights Bookstore. With the heavy brown-leather tome of the vintage alchemy history book under his arm, the college student stomped between the aisles of books. He passed the clustered tables and couches of the study section and up to the rental counter near the back corner.

            As he approached, Dylan noted the female clerk behind the desk. He was fairly sure it was the same young woman who’d talked him into renting the alchemy history book, which only made him want to sneer harder. All he was trying to do was get an A on a school paper on the lineage of chemistry; this lady had sworn up and down that this was the only text he’d need to score with flying colors. Instead, he’d received a C- and a passive-aggressive note from the professor about using legitimate sources in the future.

            He slammed the old book down on the rental counter, instantly grabbing the attention of the startled clerk. ‘August Turner,’ her nametag read. What a dumb name, Dylan thought. Wearing her thick-rimmed black glasses and uptight hair stick for her blonde bun, she was undoubtedly pretty, even in her modest business-casual clothing and lack of make-up, but Dylan couldn’t help but look down on her. He imagined it made her feel better about her own shy and socially awkward exterior to trap hardworking students like him into reading unhelpful old books.

            “Are you… returning?” August said quietly, obviously flustered by the show of aggression, but she held his gaze. “We ask that you try to treat the books, particularly rental copies, with adequate care.”

            “Yeah, whatever,” Dylan grumbled. He shoved the book across the desk. “I’ll do that, once I get a book that’s actually worth something to me.”

            August nodded with measured speed. Her lips were pinched, sensing his loud dissatisfaction.

            “You were unhappy with your rental?”

            “Uh, yeah, I was unhappy with my rental. Jesus,” Dylan snorted. He crossed his arms, and straightened his back, subtly hoping his six-inch height advantage over August would further intimidate her. “You went on and on about this thing. You said it was all I’d need to ace that paper. Remember that?”

            “I do.”

            “Well, it didn’t do shit for me. Most of the book isn’t even in English. How was I supposed to use it? And the parts that were only gave me a bunch of bullshit. Which I thought was real and then turned in, and now I’m probably going to get a C in this fucking class.”

            August adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. She blinked in quick succession.

            “Please, sir,” she said calmly. “We ask that you don’t yell in the bookstore, or use strong lang-”

            “I think I’ll just do whatever I want to, since you screwed me over just to perk up business for a failing bookstore,” Dylan scowled. He looked over his shoulder, eying the mildly perturbed other customers milling about the shelves, but no one was coming to accost him. Good.

            August tapped on the keyboard behind the desk, re-entering the copy. Clearing her throat, she drummed her fingers on the countertop.

            “I’m sorry, sir, but… did you not check the late fee notice in the back?”

            “The what?”

            “The late fee notice.”

            “What, you mean like the card-thing? So what. I’m late by a couple days.”

            “A week, actually. And I’m not talking about the card. See?”

            August gently opened the back cover and turned the hefty textbook back around to Dylan. Ready for more ammo to get out his feelings, he obliged and leaned forward to read.

            If returned late

            say goodbye

            to daylight

            fresh air

            and freedom.

            “Is that supposed to be a poem?” Dylan laughed. “It doesn’t even rhyme.”

            “It’s not a poem, no,” August corrected, still just as cool as a cucumber. Her voice had never even risen to meet Dylan’s initial challenge. “Like I said, it’s a late notice. A warning, really. You see, others were waiting on using this book, and you’ve inconvenienced them as well.”

            “Okay? And?”

            “Well, you’ve got to pay the late fee now, of course.”

            Dylan threw back his head and expelled dramatic air. What kind of conversation was this? Was she not even remotely sorry for leading him wildly astray? Now she was ignoring his complaints and prattling on about some ancient crap on the last page. Who did this bitch think she was? All at once, Dylan was filled with the compulsion to see just a tiny crack in the woman’s armor. To see her even slightly thrown off balance, as he had been by that C-.

            Casually, his gaze wandered down August’s slender frame: down along her smooth, pale legs, which possessed the lightest of shimmers, and to her shoes. The woman wore an obviously well-loved pair of black backless leather clogs. Her curved heel peeked out the back; she wore the shoes bare.

            Wrinkling his nose, Dylan shook his head. It was May already; summer was in full bloom, and so was the heat. Did she really think it was a good idea wearing leather shoes with bare feet, when she worked in close proximity to customers? Surely the sour, wet leather stench clouded the whole store by noon. It was clear that not only was she comfortable disregarding his grievances as a consumer, but she was content with letting the stench of her feet germinate within his and others’ range.

            “Look, whatever,” Dylan sighed with a shrug. “I don’t know about any late fees, but I know I’m not paying a dime for that. See ya around. And by the way: a little tip for customer service. Don’t go barefoot like that unless you want your whole store to smell like the inside of a moldy sock.”

            Sneering at August’s blank expression, Dylan backed away from the counter and started back toward the door on the opposite side of the establishment. More customers had since appeared, so he was forced to take a detour down different aisles. Passing the far wall now, he was alone among the shelves, and the door lay dead ahead.

            Dylan crashed to the ground. For an instant, he assumed he’d been cracked across the back of the head, but there was no impact pain. Only a suspicious chill prickling beneath his skin. He stumbled forward, hoisted to his knees, and promptly fell right back on his ass with surprise.

            The previously humble shelves of the bookstore now stacked into the heavens like multicolored office buildings. Under his feet, the ratty carpet swelled with texture and sun-sunken hues. From somewhere beyond, the sounds of whispered human voices boomed in Dylan’s ears. He cowered against the ground, trembling with shock. The impossible notion that the world had grown around him only just crossed his mind when August reappeared behind him.

            Now, though, she was not so much merely behind him as she was above him, too. He clocked her presence within a heartbeat of her titanic body marching around the corner of the bookshelf. The image of the stringent blonde dwarfing the towering walls of texts was eerily reminiscent of Godzilla tramping down the street between skyscrapers. Those black leather clogs were like tanks, raining down from the sky with each step and pulverizing the carpet beneath. With each step, her sole rose from the black pedestal, before clomping back to the slope. She was an absolute monstrosity, alluring despite her plainness, yet terrifying. August Turner looked to be four hundred feet tall. Or, more accurately, Dylan realized with cancerous horror, he’d shrunken dramatically to something like an inch tall.