This was his favorite aisle in the bookstore. The sign above his head said "Psychology/Self-Help" and the shelves were made of dark wood. He even liked the way the pattern on the carpeting began to blur where it met with the children's aisle, like memories going backward in time. He had never read any of these books, but he came here when he needed to get some serious thinking done. He walked up and down the aisle a few times with his eyes shut, trying to get a feel for which shelf in particular was calling to him. There was a strange smell coming from the shelf of books by somebody named Jung, so he picked one up and flipped through it. He scanned a few pages but didn't see his name anywhere, so he put it back, stretched, and tried to look out the window at the other end of the aisle. It was dark outside and there was only one person on the street, a young man who seemed to be heading for the bookstore. That would have to do.