In Sora’s defence, the man was short; not tiny, but just a little too small for Sora to spot in time. That didn't make it hurt less when the man crashed into him. Sora staggered, catching himself against the Co-op, leaving a handprint on the window. The man himself stumbled backward, lost his balance, and would have fallen if Sora hadn't caught him by the elbow. The stack of books he was carrying spilled out of his arms onto the pavement. Mostly popular history titles, it looked like at a glance.
"Thank you," said the man—the boy, really—with a smile, white teeth against dark skin in a well-kept stubble beard. "I'm so sorry, I was..." He gestured inarticulately in the direction from which he had been rushing.
"It's all right." Then, because the boy looked to be about the right age for it, Sora added, "Are you reading history?"
"Me?" The boy laughed, self-conscious, and crouched to pick up the books. "No. These are just a hobby."