HOME | DD

Description
I ran my fingers along the row of book spines lining the shelf in front of me. Every so often my feet would have to shift a step or two to keep up. My eyes scanned the covers rapidly, perfectly in sync with my hand, but I barely registered any of the titles blurring past my vision. Suddenly a rough cloth-like texture brushed against my skin and I brought my hand to a stop. Almost robotically, I pulled out the beat up volume. I ran my thumb over the cover again and looked at it a bit more closely, tapping my fingers against the back of the book. Eventually I let it fall to my side and began making my slow descent through the odd, staircasing architecture of the shop’s first floor.

When I reached the checkout Olivia was already holding out her hand for the novel. She took one glance at it and looked back at me with a lazily raised eyebrow. “Always, always with the messed up ones.”

I laughed quietly. I brushed a stray strand of mousy brown hair away from my face and felt my cheeks already growing warmer. “It’s not messed up. It’s well-read. Which probably means it’s good, right?”

“Or they didn’t care about what they were reading.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, my face screwed into a slight pout. Olivia raised her hands defensively.

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled. She waved my attitude off and continued eyeing my purchase while she punched the keys of the register. “You know I could still pry find a nicer copy of this somewhere for you.”

I shook my head. She shrugged and handed me the book. I thanked her with a brief smile then walked to the wooden staircase in the corner, climbing up to the second floor. Almost immediately I was greeted by a sliding glass door that led to the cozy, sunbathed balcony. I fell back into one of the creaking chairs and let out a deep sigh of contentment. I stayed there with my eyes closed for a few moments before pulling out my journal and placing it, along with the book, onto the table. I flipped the book open to its first page.

While I read I scribbled tightly spaced notes on the margins of the paper. Occasionally I paused to look out over the street at the people passing by and let my pencil flow over the journal pages instead, a finger placed on the book to keep my place. I don’t know how much time passed before I finally noticed I was losing my quick, mindless pace. I blinked, staring down at the miles of words in front of me, then looked back to the sweeping horizon of the city in the distance and the many bright roofs of the market dotting the landscape directly around me. I set my pencil on the table and rested my chin in my palm.

I sighed deeply, hoping to displace the faint but persistent ache that had crept up on me as I wrote. It worked...a little. I sighed again and stood up, stretching. I packed my things away in my bag and went back inside. My hand waved automatically when I passed Olivia. I didn’t look up but I could tell she was probably smiling and waving back, just like usual.

A cool burst of late afternoon air washed over my face when I opened the shop’s door. I closed my eyes and breathed it in. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. I opened my eyes again.

I travelled down the few stairs leading to the place I’d just left. Before reaching the winding path I stopped short on the second to last step and sat down. I leaned against the stout stone wall and peered into the dwindling crowd. It was getting late so most people had gone home already, but there was still a small, steady stream of stragglers and that was enough. I watched them for a while and could feel a familiar calm brush over me. It was in moments like those I was able to lose myself in the possible lives of strangers instead of longing for things in my own. It was a peaceful time of day.

I watched until the pale blue shadows of sundown were well on their way to enveloping the quiet corner. They continued to nip at my heels as I started my journey homeward bound.

Description
I ran my fingers along the row of book spines lining the shelf in front of me. Every so often my feet would have to shift a step or two to keep up. My eyes scanned the covers rapidly, perfectly in sync with my hand, but I barely registered any of the titles blurring past my vision. Suddenly a rough cloth-like texture brushed against my skin and I brought my hand to a stop. Almost robotically, I pulled out the beat up volume. I ran my thumb over the cover again and looked at it a bit more closely, tapping my fingers against the back of the book. Eventually I let it fall to my side and began making my slow descent through the odd, staircasing architecture of the shop’s first floor.

When I reached the checkout Olivia was already holding out her hand for the novel. She took one glance at it and looked back at me with a lazily raised eyebrow. “Always, always with the messed up ones.”

I laughed quietly. I brushed a stray strand of mousy brown hair away from my face and felt my cheeks already growing warmer. “It’s not messed up. It’s well-read. Which probably means it’s good, right?”

“Or they didn’t care about what they were reading.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, my face screwed into a slight pout. Olivia raised her hands defensively.

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled. She waved my attitude off and continued eyeing my purchase while she punched the keys of the register. “You know I could still pry find a nicer copy of this somewhere for you.”

I shook my head. She shrugged and handed me the book. I thanked her with a brief smile then walked to the wooden staircase in the corner, climbing up to the second floor. Almost immediately I was greeted by a sliding glass door that led to the cozy, sunbathed balcony. I fell back into one of the creaking chairs and let out a deep sigh of contentment. I stayed there with my eyes closed for a few moments before pulling out my journal and placing it, along with the book, onto the table. I flipped the book open to its first page.

While I read I scribbled tightly spaced notes on the margins of the paper. Occasionally I paused to look out over the street at the people passing by and let my pencil flow over the journal pages instead, a finger placed on the book to keep my place. I don’t know how much time passed before I finally noticed I was losing my quick, mindless pace. I blinked, staring down at the miles of words in front of me, then looked back to the sweeping horizon of the city in the distance and the many bright roofs of the market dotting the landscape directly around me. I set my pencil on the table and rested my chin in my palm.

I sighed deeply, hoping to displace the faint but persistent ache that had crept up on me as I wrote. It worked...a little. I sighed again and stood up, stretching. I packed my things away in my bag and went back inside. My hand waved automatically when I passed Olivia. I didn’t look up but I could tell she was probably smiling and waving back, just like usual.

A cool burst of late afternoon air washed over my face when I opened the shop’s door. I closed my eyes and breathed it in. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. I opened my eyes again.

I travelled down the few stairs leading to the place I’d just left. Before reaching the winding path I stopped short on the second to last step and sat down. I leaned against the stout stone wall and peered into the dwindling crowd. It was getting late so most people had gone home already, but there was still a small, steady stream of stragglers and that was enough. I watched them for a while and could feel a familiar calm brush over me. It was in moments like those I was able to lose myself in the possible lives of strangers instead of longing for things in my own. It was a peaceful time of day.

I watched until the pale blue shadows of sundown were well on their way to enveloping the quiet corner. They continued to nip at my heels as I started my journey homeward bound.