Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

“I guess.”
“He can be a little … pushy,” Hugo said. “Don’t feel like you have to do
whatever he says.” He frowned. “Especially if it sounds like it’d be illegal.”
“Not like that matters now, does it?”
“No,” Hugo said. “I don’t suppose it does. Still, humor me. For my own
peace of mind.” He reached up and smoothed out his pink bandana. “Your
first full day here. How’d it go?”
“I stayed in the kitchen the whole time.”
“Saw that.” He leaned against the railing. “You don’t have to.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I don’t know. Does it?”
“You know, for someone who said they aren’t qualified to be a therapist,
you really know how to act like one.”
Hugo chuckled. “I’ve been doing this for a bit.”
“Part of the gig,” Wallace said.
Hugo seemed pleased that he remembered. Wallace wasn’t sure why that
felt important to him. He scratched at his chest, the hook tugging gently.
“Exactly.”
“What did you want to show me?”
“Look up.”
Wallace did.
“What do you see?”
“The sky.”
“What else?”
It was like it’d been the night before, walking down a dirt road with a
strange woman at his side. The stars were bright. Once, when he’d been a
kid, he’d gotten it in his head that he needed to count them all. Each night,
he’d stared out the window of his bedroom, counting them one by one. He
never made it very far before falling asleep, waking the next morning more
determined to try again.
“Stars,” Wallace whispered, even as he struggled to remember the last
time he’d turned his face toward the sky before arriving at the tea shop. “All
those stars.” It wasn’t like this in the city. The light pollution made sure of
that, leaving only the barest hints of what hung in the sky at night. “There are
so many of them.” He felt very small.