Hardly anyone in these shops is buying. They are reading: on a stool by the shelves, on their stomach on the rug, in the armchair with a book over their face, fast asleep. In most of them somebody reaches for the top shelf with their back to you, while somebody else carries a stack taller than their head. Cats sit on the windowsill and on the counter, and the counter itself stays small, pushed against a wall.
This is the one shop in the game where nobody minds if you never get to the till.