Jun Sasaki hated surprises. Or anything spontaneous for that matter. They weren't fun, like everyone seemed to think, or exciting in any way. In fact, one time, when her parents still threw her birthday parties, they had planned a huge surprise at the house with all the neighborhood kids. Every inch of the house had been decorated, complete with an ostentatious balloon arch near the door, and her father had even hired half a circus to entertain the kids. Jun cried. Partially from the clowns, but also because of the wave of anxiety it all seemed to crash down upon her. It had been too much; too much excitement, too much attention; just, too much. Needless to say, the party had ended early and not in the way it had been expected to, with Jun locked in her room bawling. Since then, she despised any sort of unexpected events. All they ever did was bring unnecessary stress and would mess up an otherwise perfectly scheduled day.

Which was how she liked things. Scheduled. Planned. Her daily routine was practically structured down to the minute, so when something interrupted her groove, it wasn't pretty. A coworker once forgot to tell her the shifts had been changed for that day, and Jun had to spend the rest of her work shift in an anxious frenzy as she moved appointments and rescheduled the rest of the evening just so she wouldn't miss anything. Even with all that effort, Jun still ended up late to the study group she lead at the library, where only one lone soul out of the five she normally tutored remained waiting. By the time she had returned to her dorm room, Jun was a shaky mess and couldn't calm down for at least an hour.

Luckily, these distressingly tense surprises were few and far between. For the most part, Jun stuck to her routine: Mondays and Wednesdays were dominated by morning and afternoon classes, after which she returned to her dorm room to get as much homework out of the way as possible before time "on duty" as the floor advisor, in which she had to be available in case residents needed help or a somewhat friendly face to talk to.

If one job wasn't enough to keep her always busy, twice a week on Tuesday and Thursday evenings Jun took time away from her own classes and studying to tutor students at the library. And then, as if some sort of masochist, she also worked three nights a week shelving books at the Hobbit Hole. Although, this wasn't so much a job as her sole escape from an otherwise overly packed week. The small used bookstore was probably the only place Jun truly loved. In the minimal free time she did have, it was almost always spent reading. Anything and everything; books were the one thing Jun wasn't picky about. And so it was a dream come true that first day on the job when she walked in to the store and was immediately surrounded by the musty smell of thousands of books.

More a friend than boss, Tadaari-San quickly became one of the few people Jun looked forward to talking to every week. The cantankerous old man didn't say much in general, which was fine with Jun, except when talking about books, and then he wouldn't shut up. Which resulted in many of her shifts spent less on working, and more on lounging around sipping lavender tea and discussing Dostoevsky. Sometimes she'd even stay after clocking out just to wander back around the store to find the novels she came across while stocking the shelves or that Tadaari-San had recommended. Every week she'd go home with at least three new books to add to her already far too overstuffed bookshelves. And it was honestly all that kept her sane.

If Jun had any roommates, or friends besides a 78 year old bookshop owner for that matter, she figured she'd probably spend weekends with them. That's what she always saw other girls in college do anyway. Going to parties and getting drunk, or spending a small fortune on clothes they'd only wear once. Neither of which sounded very appealing. And so every time the weekend finally rolled around, Jun always found herself curled up on the loveseat in her room, devouring book after book until the late hours of the night, not at all concerned about her lack of social life.

Every once in a while her mother would call, either to try and convince her to visit home more often, or to prattle off another lecture about how "concerned" she was about Jun's future. But, seeing as her mother could just as easily give the same nagging complaints over the phone as she could in person, it didn't make sense to travel all the way back to Tokyo; so Jun stayed at school and finished four books a weekend. Was she acting a bit like a recluse by keeping to herself most of the time and avoiding anything not on her schedule like the plague? Perhaps, but that wasn't any of her mother's concern. And besides, Jun was happy with the way her life was going. Or at least, content.

"Jun, could you start shelving those new history textbooks for me? I have a few more calls I need to make before we close tonight." Tadaari poked his head around the doorframe to the back room, tutting expectantly at the sight of his star employee already unboxing the shipment of heavy textbooks and loading them onto a cart.

"Already on it," Jun barely glanced up from the inventory list to respond, "I should have at least most of this crate shelved by tonight and can finish the rest on Friday."

As always, Jun was focused far too much on work. While he did appreciate her initiative, especially since the other two students he hired could barely manage the cash register, the elderly shop owner had to frequently remind Jun to take it easy. "Save something for Mai to do too, or I'll have to have her working with customers again." Tadaari grumbled lightly.

"Alright fine," Jun sighed, setting down the inventory sheet and placing the last of the brick like books onto the tiny cart, "I'll just shelve this cart load, then I'll clock out." With an approving nod from her boss, Jun set to work at an almost in-humanly fast pace. Tying her short strawberry blonde hair back into a ponytail and covering her head with a bright yellow handkerchief to protect against the endless amount of dust in the air, she slowly wheeled the overladen cart down the closest aisle. Like a pro, she maneuvered the narrow aisles with ease, never once running into the piles of books she had so carefully stacked on the floor.

The history section was one of the largest collections they had, covering multiple aisles near the back of the store, all full or almost full from floor to ceiling. This was the tricky part of her job; when new shipments of textbooks from the University arrived or there was a large donation dropped off, it was her job to find free space. Sometimes she would spend hours roaming the shelves, deciding which books could be re-arranged to make more room on the shelves, which could be moved to stack on the floor, and which were completely in the wrong section and had to be relocated. It was like her own special game of Tetris that others found boring but Jun secretly loved.

Already envisioning the best arrangement that required the least amount of effort, Jun quickly set to work pulling equally heavy but incredibly more dusty books from the shelves, stacking them neatly in a pile next to her. As she worked she hummed quietly to herself, her mind wandering to the latest book she had been reading. Ever the efficient worker, it wasn't long before the cart of textbooks had been neatly nestled on the otherwise previously full shelves with only a small stack that now needed to find a new home. If she was the kind of person who liked to brag, Jun would have been quite proud of this accomplishment; not just anyone could so expertly house the increasing number of books that arrived when the owner was so opposed to throwing anything away to make space.

Collecting the pile into her arms Jun wandered down the aisle and around the corner, hoping that she had remembered correctly that there was a bit more wiggle room on the opposite shelving. Even with the pile obstructing most of her view, Jun knew exactly where she was in the bookstore, if only because she had been through this particular area of the store more so than most. Pausing in front of the desk, Jun's mind was drawn away from her task for the first time all day. Like a moth to a flame, the innocent typewriter sat in plain sight, it's silent siren call drawing her even closer. It had been a few days since the last time she'd had a moment away from prying eyes to visit the old friend or to share a snippet of her life with its keys.

As quietly as possible, Jun set the stack of books she was meant to be shelving beside the typewriter and glanced at her phone for the time. She still had twenty minutes before her shift ended, so theoretically there were a few minutes to spare for a moment of indulgence. Tadaari-San was always saying she needed to take more breaks anyway, so he wouldn't mind, right? He'd never caught on to her little hobby before now anyway, nor did she really want him to know, or anyone for that matter. If they knew, the typewriter would lose all of its magic; she'd actually have to consider what those people would think about the words she chose to write, instead of the freedom anonymity provided to say whatever she was feeling.

Taking a quick look around to make sure she really was alone, Jun slowly set both hands onto the keys, their cool metallic touch a welcoming feeling. Smiling slightly, she stared down at the page, already envisioning the words that would soon appear. Today's inspiration drew from the most recent passage she'd read the night before, the single line that might had seemed inconspicuous to most who read it, had shone like a beacon on the page for Jun. Slowly at first, careful to get the phrase correct, she began to type, letting the familiar sound of the typewriter printing her thoughts into the world overtake everything else. It might have been weird to others, but it always felt special to Jun, like sharing her thoughts with a friend who would never criticize.

Those born to wealth, and who have the means of gratifying every wish know not what is the real happiness of life,

CRASH!

The abrupt sound of a cascade of books falling to the floor broke through Jun's concentration, and before she even knew what she was doing, her arms were scooping the forgotten pile of books back into her arms and rushing down the nearest aisle. She didn't need to know who it was, whether an unsuspecting customer or Tadaari-San to come and reprimand her, just the very fact that she had almost been caught was enough to make her heart feel like it was doing backflips. Still breathing heavily, Jun clutched the stack of books tightly to her chest. Someone had almost snuck up behind her, they would have seen what Jun had been typing, and it would have been all over. And what was worse, she'd left in such a rush now, the quote she had been typing was left halfway done, and there was no way she could retrace her steps back there now; who knew if the intruder was still lurking about.

Thoughts spiraling anxiously, Jun tried her best to focus on work again, if only to try and focus on something less stressful. She had been right, there was more space on the bookcases on this side so it was easy enough to inter-file the books into their new homes, yet the ease of the job only meant her mind was elsewhere. Every time she'd remove a book from the pile to wedge into the cases, the same words would play over and over in her head: it's unfinished. It's unfinished and someone almost saw me.

"Hey!"

Startled for the second time in a five minute span, Jun squeaked as she was roughly turned around by her shoulders. A disgruntled customer stood in front of her, dark eyes blazing like a wildfire. Unconsciously, Jun gulped loudly. He was one of the regulars at the Hobbit Hole. Jun had seen him around before and remembered; he was hard to forget. If the well quiffed hair and handsome features weren't enough, the dark clothes and array of ear piercings were what really made him stand out. Tadaari-San never seemed to have a problem with the guy when he'd visit, in fact he was often heard greeting the man as his "favorite customer." Yet now that he was glaring down at Jun with a look that could rival Medusa, she wasn't so sure how harmless the guy actually was.

A well muscled and heavily tattooed arm gripped more firmly at her shoulder now as he gave it a light shake, "Hey, I'm talking to you!" He barked, not noticing the way Jun flinched. "Did you see anyone here a second ago? Did anyone run past you?" The deep baritone of his voice reverberated painfully loudly in the quiet space.

"W—Wha— Um, I...." But Jun's voice was gone, scared away and replaced with a bubbling sense of panic. Where did this guy come from so quickly, and why was he so adamant about her response? The more he pressed, further demanding to know who she'd seen, the further Jun retreated into the safety of her silence, until finally he gave up.

"Nevermind, you're no help." Grumbling under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, the outraged Daichi stomped back down the aisle towards the typewriter, leaving Jun still pressed against the bookcases, hyperventilating quietly.

When her feet could finally move again, Jun ran; back towards the empty cart she'd left in the other aisle and then back towards the safety of the Employee's Only section, where she promptly curled into a ball and tried not to cry. Only when through the sounds of her own ragged breathing she heard that same deep voice calling a farewell to Tadaari-San, did Jun feel safe to finally move. Quietly, and still a bit teary-eyed, she gathered her book bag from the swivel chair where she usually sat, clocked out, and was almost out the door when her feet paused. The tattooed guy was gone now, and Mai was casually flipping over the Open sign and locking the front door. No one else was around. It would only take a minute to rush back to the desk and finish typing her quote; and at least fix one of the ways this day had not gone according to plan.

Dropping her book bag by the door, Jun gave Mai a quick "I'll be right back" before rushing off into the maze. Yet when she arrived to stand in front of her beloved typewriter, Jun stared down at the inky black text and felt a new wave of nausea wash over her.

just as those who have been tossed on the stormy waters of the ocean on a few frail planks can alone realize the blessings of fair weather.

~Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

Yup. Jun hated surprises.