It didn't take long for her to grab a bag from a display from the store they'd just walked into. She traced the black seams with her fingers and admired the gold plate with the brand name engraved on it.

"We aren't here for ten seconds," River said slowly, "and you've already managed to find something you like. That's a talent."

She chuckled. "Can you blame me?" she asked. "Look at it!"

"It's a beautiful bag," he admitted. "But I think the bag you have right now is pretty too."

She ignored that comment. She knew it was a beautiful bag, but it reminded her of what used to be. It was four years old and she'd gotten it before her disappearance. She hadn't had the time to buy a new one, but despised what this one represented.

But the one she was holding right now was perfect. She put it on her arm and it felt right somehow. "You're too late, I've already fallen in love with this one."

He rolled his eyes. "You don't want to look around more?" he asked.

"You can," she said, then added in a dramatic tone, "but I've found my destiny." She zipped the white bag open to check the inside. It was a small bag, smaller than the other ones she had. "It just has to pass the final test," she said, putting her own bag down and getting the contents out; a wallet, her phone, a charger, and a book.

"You carry a book with you?" he asked, surprised.

She nodded. "I always do."

He picked it up from the table where she'd put it next to all her other stuff. "Little Fires Everywhere," he read from the cover. "Seems lit."

She laughed. "That's a terrible joke," she said, eyeing the cover of the book that showed a house on fire.

He raised one eyebrow. "You laughed."

He was right and she was still chuckling, but she didn't want to admit that and averted her gaze, focusing on the two bags in front of her instead. "It's actually a good book," she said, taking it out of his hands. It was still a part of her test; she needed to know if it fit in her dream bag. "You should read it too."

"Me, read?" he said. "Not really my thing."

She tilted her head to the side. "Come on! Don't tell me you never read."

"Well..." He wisely didn't say anything more.

"How do you still live?" she asked him. She knew she wouldn't be able to survive if she didn't read. Books gave her energy and the motivation to keep going, but were also an escape during difficult times.

"I breathe, eat, sleep, repeat," he deadpanned.

"It's simply not possible to not like stories," she said. She believed that was true; every human being has a curious nature, she thought, and stories are its food.

"I didn't say I don't like stories," he defended himself. "I just don't like to read."

She put the paperback in the white purse, and to her delight she had no problem doing so. She mumbled a soft 'thank you' to no one in particular, before the words he'd said actually sank in.

"Don't tell me you're the type that likes movies," she said warningly.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, there's something to be said about -"

Whatever he was going to say, he was wrong. Knowing that, she didn't give him the chance to finish his sentence and laid out her biggest frustration, something not many people believed anymore. "But books are so much better!" she said. "The book is always better."

"If you don't read the book before watching the movie -" he began.

She shook her head. "Not an option," she said. With a satisfied smile she took her possessions out of the bag, back in her own bag, and she put the new white purse on her arm, getting used to the feeling of it hanging there. She didn't have to look any further; this one was perfect.

"But okay," she said, "you watch movies." It was a hard pill to swallow, but there was nothing she could do about it. "I have a question."

He answered without hesitation. "Hufflepuff."

She furrowed her brows together. "What?"

"Weren't you going to ask me which Harry Potter house I'm in?" he asked, just as confused as she was.

She shook her head. "No, I wasn't," she said. "I was going to ask you about your forever-movie."

"My forever-movie?"

"If there was only one movie you could see for the rest of your life," she began slowly, very curious for his answer, "which one would it be?"

Again, there was no doubt in his voice when he answered. "Collateral Beauty," he said. "I need that reminder, so it's an easy choice."

She hadn't seen the movie, but had come across it once. If she remembered correctly, it was about a man who lost his daughter - which made her wonder if he'd ever lost someone. Why, of all movies, did he pick this one?

But he'd already moved on from his answer, letting his eyes wander through the racks of clothing from the store.

"Do you see something you like yet?" she asked him.

There was a silence in which River took the time to look at everything. "Not yet," he said, dragging out the first syllable, but quickly changing his tone when he continued, "but what do we have here?" He extended his arms and his hands disappeared between the colorful pieces of clothing on the rack to pull out a hanger holding a blue velour shirt. He seemed to shine from within when he smiled, looking at it and letting his hand feel the soft fabric, admiring it in a way she didn't see boys do much over fashion.

"Do these match my pants?" he asked then, suddenly serious.

She looked from the shirt to his pants and back. The shirt was a light blue shade with white Adidas stripes from the shoulders to the short sleeves. He was still wearing the pants that were part of his uniform in a simple black color.

"Why not?" she asked. "Seems fine to me."

He raised one eyebrow. "'Fine' or 'it's-such-a-good-match-I'm-about-to-faint-or-die-or-both'?" he asked, talking fast. She had a hard time not laughing when he was still speaking in a serious tone, but she managed to keep it in. "You know what? I'm trying it on," he said when it took her longer than a second to answer.

They both walked over to the changing rooms; he walked into one through the black curtain and she took a seat in one of the comfy leather chairs meant as a waiting room. She took her phone out of her old bag as she made herself comfortable and opened up news pages. She was still trying to catch up with the world after being out of it for three years, reading headlines to get a general idea of what was going on.

There was one that caught her attention in particular. Jason King breaks the silence.

It was posted just three hours ago, according to the time stamp. Her eyes widened when she realized what this meant. He'd done it. How much had he told? Had he said something about her too?

She'd already clicked on the headline and the full article popped up on her screen. She felt the beating of her heart in the back of her throat when she started reading.

     Jason King and Emily Abbington shook the world with their return on January 23 after vanishing three years ago. The question remained, where have they been all this time? After a week of silence, Jason King is here with us in the studio to give all the answers we've waited for.

Her hands were shaking heavily, making the small text on her screen hard to read, but her eyes didn't lie to her. She saw a video attached to the article, showing Jason in a navy blue suit sitting in a studio. He was a little paler, but he'd cleaned up nicely. The scar on his face was hardly noticeable because of the makeup that had been put on him, but she could see the little bump knowing there used to be a wound there.

She scrolled further, her body temperature dropping. A chill rolled down her spine. Under the video was an article written on the subject, giving the same information Jason had provided in the video.

     We were delighted to see Jason in our studio, safe and unharmed...

She skipped through the formalities, scrolling further for the more important stuff.

     We asked him about the past three years and how he has experienced them, but he couldn't go into the fine details...

     Jason told us how the kidnappers took great care of remaining unrecognizable...

That was true; their kidnappers had always worn masks or beanies with sunglasses, making it impossible for her and Jason to describe them to the police.

     Emily Abbington hasn't commented on the situation yet...

"What's that?" a voice really close to her ear asked.

She jumped up and let out a short shriek. She hadn't seen River coming out of the changing room and was surprised by his sudden appearance. How long had he been standing there? What had he seen?

"Nothing," she said quickly, but she didn't sound sure of it herself.

"Really?" he asked. His teasing smile disappeared and his eyebrows stood together in worry.

She nodded. "Nice shirt."

Her attempt at distracting him worked; he took a look at his new outfit in the mirror. He flattened a wrinkle in the fabric and turned around a couple of times to look at the shirt from multiple angles. Emily noticed how the light blue color complemented his tan skin.

"I like it too," he said then.

*

She put the white leather bag on the counter with a satisfied grin after the standard welcoming from the cashier. "We'd like to buy this shirt too," Emily said to the cashier, pointing at the one River was wearing.

River just smiled awkwardly. He'd wanted to change into his old shirt, but Emily had convinced him it was pointless to put his old one on so he could buy this one to immediately change into the new one again. This short shopping spree was meant to find something for this afternoon after all because his other shirt was ruined, and Emily didn't want to waste any time. Efficiency was something her parents had taught her.

The cashier tried to hide his astonishment, but the change in his facial features was very much noticeable. "Of course," he said. "Can I see the price tag?"

River leaned forward awkwardly. The tag was hanging from the collar when the cashier reached out to scan it.

"Do you want me to take the tag out too?" he asked.

"If you could, yes please," River said. His cheeks were blushing red and Emily was enjoying his uneasiness. Then his eyes fell on the display with the scanned items.

"Wait, don't!" he said.

The cashier froze in place. His hand holding the scissors was close to River's neck and River's sudden movement caused his hands to shake.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked with a frown.

"I don't want the shirt anymore."

She sighed, closed her eyes and counted to three before answering. "Why not?" Just now, he had seemed to like it.

"Have you seen the price on this?" he asked, pointing at the display.

She didn't look at where he was pointing. "No." To be honest, she didn't really care what the price of the shirt was. She was planning on using her parents' money.

"I can't afford this."

She sighed, again. "What have I told you? You don't have to, I'll buy it for you."

"But it's too much," he said.

"Just wait until you see the bag," she said, grinning. She hadn't checked the price tag on it yet, but she could feel the quality by just holding it and knew what the price range was for quality pieces like that one. "Don't worry about it," she assured him.

"What's it gonna be?" the cashier asked, still poised with the scissors in the air.

River stayed silent and looked at Emily.

"You can take the tag out," she said.

"So there isn't an issue?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Never has been."

The zipper of her bag rasped as she opened it to get her wallet out. River stood behind her, waiting patiently. She wondered what he was thinking; he seemed hesitant to accept her money, used to taking care of everything himself. She'd also never heard him mention anything about his parents before, which would confirm his independent nature.

She suddenly felt a heavy hand on her shoulder that felt like a weight keeping her down, limiting her range of motion. Her heart skipped a beat, her breathing got stuck and her skin started itching where the hand was touching. Something was not right, she thought immediately, and all her alarm bells went off.

"Let go!" she screamed. She turned her head to see whose hand it was while she attempted to grab it at the same time with her right hand, ready to twist it nastily - but before she could, the hand pulled back, just as shocked as she was.

It was just River.

She looked around. All the other customers were looking at her, probably wondering why she'd overreacted - and she realized she had. It was just a hand on her shoulder, she told herself in an effort to calm down, but she knew better. After the trauma of her kidnapping, things would never be 'just a hand'.

* * *

As some of you may know, I entered this story into the Open Novella Contest. This week, however, I learned I didn't make it through the first round - I was so stupid to fill the form in wrong 🙄

But no need to be discouraged! Actually, as I was planning and writing on, I realized I wouldn't have been able to hold myself to the 40k limit of a novella either and being out of the contest allows me a lot more freedom with the story.

And because of that, if the writing keeps flowing like it does now, it will likely be a novel :) So, there'll be more of River and Emily! I love them too much to let the story end so early :D

Then, yesterday I came across this project to finish your story within a month (not NaNoWriMo, but similar), #FinishYourNovel, and I got so enthusiastic I signed up for it immediately. It actually started off yesterday too and the project basically says to finish your story by March 15, so within a month. It's another challenge, but one I'm willing to accept!

I'm currently at 30k with writing and because my speed probably won't decrease anytime soon because of this new project, I'll upload twice a week now: every Monday and Friday. Look out for those updates!

Anyway, that's an update on what's going on with me - how are you all doing?