As Malachai pulled to a stop in front of an old, slightly run-down, and all but forgotten storefront, he smiled at what he could see from the window display. He'd come to the right place, it seemed. Slipping from his bike, he hung his helmet on the handlebars and adjusted his vest before making his way inside. There was something very comforting about touching the leather.
The door swung open as the man entered the shop, and an old fashioned bell gave a soft ding. It made Mal smile as his boots sounded along the wooden floor, thinking about an old corner drug store he used to go to during his free time as a child. That smile d