PARIS -- She sold out of Charlie Hebdo instantly, of course. But her shelves are also bare of most of the papers covering Wednesday's tragic events.
The left-leaning Libération has been particularly popular for Jamille Mouawad, 50, who runs a kiosque à journaux newspaper stand on Boulevard du Temple near the offices of Charlie Hebdo.
"People came this morning and grabbed every paper from top to bottom," she says. "Just like that. I got three times the number of papers. And if I'd been sent a thousand Charlie Hebdos they'd have sold out."
To say the Charlie Hebdo story has dominated the papers would be an understatement -- it's everywhere. Even sports papers and publications for young adults are running reports and analysis on an event that's shaken the capital and the country.
However, the run on the papers isn't Mouawad's biggest fear. The events of Wednesday have had a big impact, leaving many sad and fearful.
“I feel safe," she says, "but it’s true that because of these jihadists we’re afraid now.”
As a Christian from Lebanon who's worked on the stall for two years, she says she keeps her crucifix hidden within her big fur coat.
"It wasn’t like this before," she says, fingering the necklace with one hand and pulling on a Marlboro Light with the other.
"When I first came here it was normal -- Muslims, Christians, foreigners. Now there are lots of racist Muslims -- before there were normal Muslims -- and I’m scared that they see me wearing a cross," she says. "I have several necklaces with crosses in my house, but I wear the little one, not the big one. There you have it."
"Excuse moi," passerby Nicole Ravoux asks as the interview is wrapping up. "Do you have any copies of Charlie Hebdo?"
"We want to remain optimistic that we can be free"
Over by the scene of the shooting, the streets are still closed, but many of the approach roads around the offices of Charlie Hebdo are flanked by flowers and camera crews. Locals come and go with flowers and tributes, stopping to speak to mini scrums of the world's media.
There's a light drizzle which occasionally breaks into cold, hard rain, but it's barely noticed. A tricolour flaps disconsolately by an abandoned Christmas tree. Two young girls lay a bouquet, pausing for a moment to reflect and telling the reporters assembled simply that it's "very sad."
Mr. Abjeluan, 66, lives on the street where it happened. He was a reader of the paper in the '70s and '80s, the "generation of legendary artists after May '68."
"In a way, it's a state of mind, of freedom, or criticism that has been killed," he tells Mashable.
"I didn’t read the newer Charlie Hebdo because the political alliance had changed, it was a little different," he says. "It was more libertarian 20 or 25 years ago. And afterwards it became something else, even though they had the same cartoonists."
"Either way, I’m ready to get a subscription, just to help them for a year, but they’ll have to find a readership," he says. "These were great cartoonists, I’m sure there are younger ones behind them."
Abjeluan has Armenian roots, he says, and tells Mashable that Armenians started immigrating to France and the United States in the 1920s.
"We kept our culture but we are also French," he says. "We adopted the values of democracy, the Republic. The people -- not all of them, a minority of people who have the Islamic religion -- they don’t consider these values."
Another woman at the tribute, Cosabeth, has lived in Paris for 30 years. "We are all shocked by this action against France's democracy," she says, wrapping herself up in her zebra print against the rain, adding that everyone laughed at Charlie Hebdo's drawings.
She also praised the political response following the attacks.
"All the politicians are trying to stay together and unite," she says. "Maybe some people from the Front National are trying to say dirty things. We just have to be careful of what political movements are going to try and recuperate."
"We want to remain optimistic that we can be free. We want to tell them that we love them and we love their families and we want everybody to keep strong," she says. "We don’t want to be shocked and afraid of these guys."
"I see everything as bleak"
Back at the Place de la République, traffic is moving again. Cyclists stop by to look at the remnants of last night's vigil. A huge bunch of marker pens and pencils have been arranged into a peace sign and candle wax has hardened onto the stones.
A tree has been papered with tributes in multiple languages. Beside it stands Maria, who is Portuguese but has lived in Paris for 50 years.
"I see everything as bleak," she tells Mashable. "Here in Paris, attacks happen every so often but this was really a massacre. I didn’t sleep at all last night."
"I hope the police and politicians are doing everything they can, but when you have people like this, there’s nothing that can be done," Maria says.
At noon, a minute's silence was observed across Paris -- and throughout the rest of the country -- before bells rang out from Notre Dame cathedral as a defiant, uneasy, but cautiously optimistic city remembered its victims.
Video: France in mourning