Ethan hovers by the records as I ring up some customers. He's flipping through albums at a rapid pace, dark brown curls falling over the crease between his brows. I'm a little distracted watching him.

The old man at the till smiles at me knowingly. 'I remember when I used to look at my sweetheart like that,' he says. God rest her soul.

I flush and slip his record into a paper bag. You must have been very happy together.

We were. He takes his bag and leaves.

I look to Ethan. 'Any luck?'

He shakes his head. 'The newest one I can find is this Nirvana album. I think it came out in the 90's?'

I circle around the cash register and join him at the metal rack. 'We can ask Oma when she gets back from the grocers.'

'I don't recognise most of this music,' Ethan confesses. 'I can't tell what the newer albums are.'

'We still have something to go on,' I say.

Ethan looks thoughtful. I'm surprised Clara wasn't more unnerved by everything. I wonder what we'll find in the cinema backrooms.

'None of the customers today have paid much heed to what we've been thinking,' I say. We're not exactly trying to hide our thoughts, but no one in Brambleburg seems to particularly care. I never cared about - or noticed - the strangeness all these years either. Not until I saw it through Ethan's eyes.

I wonder if Brambleburg's magic stops them from caring. Ethan looks like he wants to say something more but doesn't.

The bell above the front door jangles and Christine walks in. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, and she doesn't look like she slept that well.

'Oh, Lukas, Ethan, hi.' Christine looks uncomfortable all of a sudden. I'm sorry things were awkward the other day. 'I'm just here to pick up an order for my mum.'

'Yeah, of course.' I rummage under the desk for the clearly labelled packet. Don't worry about it, Christine. It's none of my business.

'Did Clara, um, did she say anything?' Christine asks, hope colouring her voice.

'Um, that's really between you and Clara...' I start, but Ethan's mind can't help replaying Clara saying 'people end up hurting people without ever meaning to'.

Christine looks stricken. 'I didn't- I didn't mean to—'

'You don't owe us an explanation, Christine,' I quickly say. 'It's none of our business, really.'

Ethan looks like he disagrees. Sometimes there's a fine line between staying out of people's business because you respect their boundaries, and staying out of it because you don't care enough to ask.

I do care. I know I put up a wall sometimes, but I hope no one thinks it's because I don't care.

'It's fine, really...I'm okay,' Christine says, staring down at her shoes. I'm not okay. Nothing's fine.

'Clara likes you, and...I can't read your mind, but I get the sense that you like her back.' Ethan shrugs apologetically. I thought relationships would be easier in a town of telepaths.

Christine sighs. 'Yes, I've always harboured a small crush on her.' But she never thought of me that way. I...I never thought she would look at me like that. And I still don't know what she sees in me. Whatever it is, it won't last. Christine clears her throat awkwardly. 'Anyway, I didn't want anyone to find out, so I just pushed it deep down and made myself get over it.'

I keep my eyes glued to the register as I ring up the package. This is so personal. And I don't want to be a spectator listening to her insecurities. Everyone has insecurities.

'She really does like you though,' Ethan pipes in, oblivious to the subtext. 'Why would you make yourself get over it?'

'Clara likes everyone.' And definitely not me. Just every other girl. 'She's a bit of a romantic.' Christine smiles ruefully. 'She was just seeing me after a long time, and her feelings got confused. She doesn't actually like me like that.' She couldn't.

Ethan looks like he's about to argue but I change the topic, saying, 'Alright, that'll be €20.' I don't want to pry any further into Christine's mind.

She hands me two €10 notes, looking relieved. 'Thanks. It was...nice talking to you both.'

When she leaves, I look to Ethan. 'It's complicated in Brambleburg. I don't feel comfortable, sometimes, being privy to people's thoughts.'

'I know.' He bites his lip. 'But I can't read minds. The only way I can communicate with people is by talking to them.'

'Ethan, of course. I don't mean that you shouldn't.' I shake my head. 'It's a me thing, really. No one else here seems to have a problem with privacy.'

'Yes, I- oh, Oma's here!' Ethan says suddenly.

I look up a moment before she comes into view. I had been too preoccupied to hear her.

'Has everything been going smoothly here? You boys okay?' Isabella asks, a crease between her brows.

'Yes. Everything's how it always is.' I shrug. Nothing's changed.' Nothing ever changes here.

'That's good, isn't it? We don't want people to panic.'

'I've been thinking...isn't it strange that no one panicked when Ethan first got here? I mean, sure, they were excited. But they weren't as concerned as they should have been, given the circumstances.'

Isabella lifts a shoulder. 'I did find it unusual, but I supposed I was more concerned with finding Ethan a place here and getting him settled in.' She considers it for a moment. 'But in retrospect, yes, his arrival should have been more shocking to more people.'

I don't like the idea of Brambleburg's magic tampering with, perhaps diminishing, people's emotions. It makes me feel even more so that we are trapped in an airless bubble. Suffocating.

Ethan changes the subject, telling Oma his theory on how films and records must be coming into Brambleburg somehow. 'These records are only about forty years old at most. You must have been working at the store at the time! How did you get new orders in?'

Isabella frowns. 'We never got new orders in. The records must have been here already.'

Ethan deflates. 'That doesn't make any sense. They couldn't have been here over forty years ago. Someone needs to have brought them in.'

'Ethan, there's been no visitors to Brambleburg. Not until you. Trust me, I wouldn't forget such a thing.'

Part of me wonders whether she would forget. Would Brambleburg make her forget? If Ethan ever leaves town...leaves me...would I forget he ever existed at all?

Oma gives me a sharp look. Don't be silly, Lukas. You're having fantastical thoughts. Her eyes soften. And Ethan cares about you deeply - you don't need to be a mindreader to see that. He's not going to leave.

'Oma?' Ethan still clutches the record. 'Most of these records are from the 80's. Did you notice lots of new records arriving?'

'I'm sorry, Ethan.' She shakes her head. 'I really don't remember.'

'Did there used to be a lot more records stocked in the storeroom when you were young?'

Isabella smiles. 'I think our storeroom is still quite well-stocked.'

Ethan looks around at the well-stocked shelves. 'If you never order stock, and people keep buying records, how does the amount of stock never reduce?'

Her smile slips. 'It does- it doesn't.... What are you talking about, Ethan?'

'Have there always been the exact same number of records kept in stock, no matter how many you sell?'

Isabella stares at him for a while. Her thoughts turn disturbed. 'I never thought about that,' she says quietly.

And Oma being unsure in herself makes me feel afraid.