What kind of bookshop has open on a

What kind of bookshop has open on a Sunday? This one obviously

She is there on coincidence, browsing for a present

He is there on coincidence too, because, after all these years, he finally can browse without being noticed all too often.

Coincidence. Maybe that it was. Also, we all know that the universe is rarely so lazy.

He has basically retired. From time to time doing a thing here and there. Nothing too big, just something to fill up the need to act and to do something. The acting it's in his blood, in his bones, and knows he will do it till he falls into his grave.

Mostly he enjoys having Grandchildren now. That is his new role, and he found himself enjoying it -- sometimes too much.

She enjoys similar. Not Grandchildren, just children. Time has passed, it was about time probably. Family. That's her main project at the moment, aside many others.

Always restless, always the busy actress nevertheless. She asked him to come, a few years ago, to the big event, but he hadn't been available. He was doing a thing, and instead sent her a lovely little video message, telling her he would have loved to see her in that dress. That he loved her in general.

They both knew why he couldn't be there. And it had been okay.

It's good to see her again, not that they hadn't met a few times over the last five years. They just never had met in private, like this, on coincidence — in a bookshop.

They settle into a corner, each one of them a book in hand, and if it is only to keep their hands busy, and away from each other. The magic is still there, the highly praised chemistry, glowing around them. It never got tired of leaving them.

There is no chit-chat, no awkward talk about film projects. It is only them, being all too familiar with each other. She compliments his shirt, tells him he looks good, very good, for his age. The weather of Spain did an excellent job on him, and he tells her that she is glowing from the inside, more than ever. That he has cried like a kid, seeing her last film, so touched he had been by it.

"What are you reading?" she glances at the book in his hand, and he smirks at it, and then smiles at her — a little sad.

It's a throwback; she will remember, he is sure when he turns the cover showing her "Night Train to Lisbon".

“I haven’t read it for a while,” the tips of his long fingers, on one his golden ring, trail gently over the cover. “It gives me comfort.”

He had sent her a copy a few years ago, plain, without a big fuss. Just an envelope, postmarked in Spain.

On the inside, ‘for Jenna. Peter'.

Nothing more was needed. It had always been like this. They knew, they always had. A sentiment one hadn't to talk about too much. They were British after all. And Scottish.

They still remember as if it had been yesterday. And for some reason in their heads, it only had been yesterday. A memory burned so deep into their beings, that time had lost its meaning.



Her tongue in his mouth, tasting after the orange juice she had before they had gone to bed that evening.

She licks against his upper lip, teasingly, while his arms are around her waist holding her close, not ever wanting her to leave his lap.

Her legs around him, them sitting on the floor, the music still playing in the background. Bowie. Who else. It was always Bowie — with him. Always would be.



Once she had stood in a store, lost, and when she had looked down, there was a record of David Bowie. Not his latest, but the one with ‘Heroes' on it. She never really had been into Bowie, she couldn't say why. It was just not her thing. But the song was, and the record that sat there, probably for ages, waiting for her — in her mind, only for her. So she bought it — not even having a record player at home.

Two weeks later she bought one. After the record had leaned against the glass of the window in her study. Between pictures from filming, some awards, little fan drawings.

Hidden in plain sight.

Bowie. Peter. Heroes. She had heard him play the son

結果 (中文) 1:

上周日，什么样的书店已开放？这一明显她在那儿巧合，浏览一份礼物他也有上的巧合，因为这些年来，他终于可以浏览没有被注意到所有过于频繁。巧合。也许这就是。此外，我们都知道宇宙是很少这么懒。他基本上已经退休了。从时间到时间做的事。不能太大，想填满需要采取行动，做一些事情。它在他的血液，在他的骨头，并知道他的表演将做直到他落入他的坟墓。主要是他喜欢现在有孙子的。这就是他的新角色，他发现自己享受它 — — 有时太多。她喜欢类似。不是孙子，只是孩子。时间过去了，这可能是关于时间。家庭。这就是她的主要项目在一刻，留出许多其他。总是不安，总是忙的演员不过。她问他来看，几年前，大事件，但他没有可用。他做一件事，，而是寄给她可爱的小视频消息，告诉她他会喜欢看她的打扮。他爱她一般。他们都知道为什么他不能有。而且它一直好。很高兴再次见到她，并不是说他们没有遇见几次在过去的五年。他们只是从没想过像这样，私下的巧合 — — 在一家书店。他们定居到一个角落里，他们每个人一本书在手，如果只是为了保持他们的手忙，和离开从彼此。魔法仍然在那里，是高度赞扬的化学，发光在他们周围。它永远不会厌倦，离开他们。有是没有聊天，没有尴尬谈电影项目。它是只有它们，都太熟悉彼此。她称赞他的衬衫，告诉他，他看起来不错，很好，他的年龄。西班牙天气出色地在他身上，和他对她说，比以往任何时候她从里面，发光。他已经哭得像个孩子，看她最后一部电影，深深打动了他，一直由它。"你在读什么？"她瞥了他手里的书和他得意地笑了，然后微笑着她 — — 有点难过。它是一种倒退;她会记住，他是肯定当他变成了盖露出她"夜火车到里斯本"。"我没有读过这一段时间，"他长长的手指，一个他金色的戒指，提示线索轻轻地在封面。"它给我的安慰"。几年以前，朴实，无大做文章他送她一份副本。只是一个信封，在西班牙以邮戳为准。在里面，' 为詹娜。彼得 '。什么都不需要做更多。它一直这样。他们知道，他们总是有。一个人的情绪并没有谈论太多。毕竟他们是英国人。和苏格兰。他们仍然记得好像它是昨天一样。由于某种原因在他们的头，只是昨天。内存烧毁深入到他们的人，那个时候已经失去了意义。 她的舌头在嘴里，品尝后她之前的那天晚上他们都已上床的橙汁。她开玩笑地舔反对他的上唇，虽然他的武器是着她的腰，抱着她靠近，永远不想她离开他的大腿。她的双腿在他周围，他们坐在地板上，仍然在后台播放音乐。鲍威。还有谁。它总是被鲍伊 — — 与他。将永远是。 一旦她站在店里丢了，和她有低头，没有记录的大卫 · 鲍伊。不是他的最新，但在其中的英雄就可以。她从来没有真正已经成鲍伊，她说不出为什么。这只是她的事。但这首歌是、 记录，坐在那里，大概的年龄，等待着她 — — 在她的心里，只为她。于是她买了下来 — — 甚至不在家吃电唱机。两个星期后，她买了一个。后该记录已靠她的研究在窗户上的玻璃。从拍摄的照片，之间一些奖，小风扇图纸。隐藏在显眼的地方。鲍威。彼得。英雄。她听说他打儿子

結果 (中文) 3:

什么样的书店在星期日营业？这一明显她是巧合，浏览一个礼物他也有巧合，因为，毕竟这些年来，他终于可以浏览而不被人注意到了。巧合。也许是。此外，我们都知道，宇宙是很少这么懒惰。他基本上已经退休了。不时做一件事在这里和那里。没有什么太大，只是一些需要去做的事情，去做一些事情。行动它在他的血液里，在他的骨头里，知道他会这样做，直到他落入他的坟墓。主要是他喜欢有孙子了。这是他的新角色，他发现自己很喜欢它，有时太多了。她喜欢相似的。没有孙子，只是孩子。时间已经过去了，大概是时候了。家庭。这是她的主要项目，在一瞬间，除了许多其他。总是不安，不过总是忙碌的女演员。她让他来，几年前，大的事件，但他没有可用。他做了一件事，而不是给她一个可爱的小视频信息，告诉她，他会喜欢看到她在那条裙子。他爱她一般。他们都知道为什么他不能在那里。而且它是好的。很好再次见到她，并不是说他们在过去的五年里没有见过几次。他们只是从来没有见过私下的，像这样，巧合的是在一家书店里。他们坐在一个角落里，每一个人手里都有一本书，如果只是让他们的手很忙，彼此远离。魔法仍然在那里，高度赞扬的化学，在他们周围发光。它从来没有厌倦离开他们。没有聊天，没有关于电影项目尴尬的谈话。只是他们，彼此太熟悉了。她称赞他的衬衫，告诉他，他看起来很好，很好，他的年龄。西班牙的天气对他做了一个很好的工作，他告诉她，她是从内部发光，比以往任何时候都更。他哭得像一个孩子，看到她的最后一部电影，所以感动，他一直在它。“你在读什么？”她盯着他手中的书，他嘲笑它，然后笑着看着她有点伤心。这是一个倒退；她会记得，他是肯定的时候，他把封面展示她的“里斯本夜车”。“我还没有读过一段时间，”他长长的手指尖，在一个金色的戒指上，轻轻地穿过盖子。“这给了我安慰。”几年前他给她寄了一份复印件，没有大惊小怪的。只是一个信封，邮戳在西班牙。在里面，“珍娜。彼得。没有更多的需要。它一直是这样的。他们知道，他们总是有。一种感情，一个人没有谈论太多。他们毕竟是英国人。和苏格兰。他们还记得好像昨天是昨天一样。在他们的头上的一些原因，它只是昨天。一个记忆深深地燃烧在他们的生命中，那时候已经失去了它的意义。她的舌头在他的嘴里，品尝后，她有桔子汁，在他们去睡觉，晚上。她舔在他的上唇，开玩笑，而他的胳膊搂着她的腰搂着她，不想让她离开自己的圈。她的腿在他周围，他们坐在地板上，音乐仍在播放的背景。鲍伊。还有谁。它总是与他一起。总是会。当她站在商店里，失去了，当她低头一看，有一个戴维鲍伊记录。不是他的最新，但其中有"英雄"。她从来没有真正进入了Bowie，她不能说为什么。这只是不是她的事。但这首歌是，和记录，坐在那里，可能是年龄，等待她-在她的心中，只为她。因此，她买了它-甚至没有在家里有一个记录播放器。两个星期后，她买了一个。在她的书房里有一对窗户的玻璃。从拍摄之间的照片，一些奖项，小粉丝的图纸。隐藏在平原。鲍伊。彼得.英雄.她听见他在玩儿子