Outside, the tram screeches by, and loud bystanders on cell phones walk hurriedly. A clang of pans sounds in the fish & chips shop next door.
But every sound is muted as we step into the quiet warmth of the bookstore. Colorful spines and the smell of fresh paper envelop us.
I take off in one direction and she in the other, with no particular destination in mind. I nod politely at a man wearing a kilt as I reach the back corner of the store. Mystery and history.
After minutes of wandering, we both end up drawn to the cookbook section. We browse the Korean recipe books to see what sets them apart from the recipes we make at home. What made them worth publishing.
Nothing much.
We could make a cookbook, we nod in agreement.
Behind the cookbooks lies a welcoming little alley of books that are even more brightly colored than the rest. Children’s picture books stack the shelves with a banner welcoming new friends.
I hook back around to the fiction section, where my eyes unconsciously travel to the V’s.
As expected, they don’t carry any Vonnegut pieces I don’t already own. Some interesting alternative covers that I imagine are unique to Australia, but no new stories.
She touches my back and we scale down the shelves to the D’s. She pulls out the shortest Dostoyevsky she can find and we read the first few sentences together. We’re both hooked.
We compare two versions of the same book. Different words. One of them is easier, so she picks that one.
I go back to put the rejected copy in its spot, but can’t seem to find it. I trace the letters back to “Dos-” and realize the empty space that the book left in its wake had melted away as if it were never there.
I set down my coffee on a stepping stool, clear some space between the books, and push it back in snugly. The shelves let out a deep sigh and allow the book to remain.
She pays for her new Dostoyevsky (the shortest one). Another universe to bring home.
We step back into the cold evening and into the loud city streets.
Another tram screeches by.
A cozy small bookstore, I can smell it.
I can smell of the bookstore reading this 😙