The Universe's Mixer

The bookstore, a nice little hole in the wall called "Bookmark Books," looked to be as unassuming a place as could be. Big bay windows with the name stenciled on them, a display of the week's new arrivals, and a good view for the stuffed chairs where people could sit and read. There was no Starbucks inside but a coffee pot was constantly in use, giving the place an appropriately pleasing smell.

The contents, Errol found, went beyond bestsellers and reference books. Towards the back were well-kept first editions, one of which he could have sworn he had burned well before his epiphany. But since this seemed to be a place out of time, he was not surprised for long. There were other shelves further back he had not had the chance to browse in-depth just yet, and none of the new arrivals were ever shelved back there. He'd get around to it some day, he decided. It wasn't like time was a concern for him here. He'd lived one life under tremendous stress with very few bright spots, and he was determined to enjoy this one much more and at a much slower pace.

There weren't many customers today, and the few that were here were content to sit and read. One trio sat around a low table, all looking at the same book and occasionally making quiet comments to each other. Students, Errol decided. He poured himself some coffee and walked back to his seat behind the counter, keeping a metaphorical eye and ear open as he opened his own book to its marked place.

After being asleep for months, Inara would have been happy to never have her head hit the pillow again. For the first week, she had avoided the couch that had been her resting place for so long, and stayed up as late as she was physically able, drinking tea into the night. The first night, she had dozed off for no more than two hours before jolting into consciousness, fear and then relief at being awake flooding her body. The second day, she had seen the sun rise, but had gone through the rest of the day in a daze, without energy, dragging.

She knew this couldn't go on. Avoiding sleep would take its toll on her, physically and emotionally. Already she was noticing dark circles, like bruises, under her eyes, the skin papery-thin. If she wanted to go back to her previous life at all... well, she would have to get over her newfound fear of sleep.

That night, she took all the steps towards relaxation, and then some. She took a bath with lavender oils, lit candles and incense, changed into a silk robe and sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, eyes closed, working to control her breathing and the beating of her heart. She was stronger than this. It was quite ridiculous, after all, to be afraid of sleep. To be afraid of never waking up.

After all, what were the chances of that happening twice?

Luckily, the exhaustion was all she needed. After days of being worn out, all it took was for her to pull the covers over her shoulders, curl up on one side, rest her cheek in the palm of her hand, and she was asleep, flying off to the land of dreams.