The Bohemian and the Terrapin, by Adrian Slonaker

She discovered him handling microfilm at the community library, obsessed with newspaper advertisements and local tidbits from 1959. In contrast to his charcoal sweater and black jeans, she was clad in flowing tangerine, olive and turquoise cottons, like a mismatched hippie fashion show. She smiled affably, revealing several crooked teeth. He nodded stiffly, hiding deeper feelings and retreating within a terrapin's shell blackened with bruises, scraped by scratches and hardened by time. He tried to fortify his misanthropic mistrust, but, to his chagrin, he wasn't crafted from muscovite. He responded to warmth. When she coaxed him, he crawled forth.