1 Chapter 1

The doors of the stuffy subway burst open; people spill out, in a hurry to get to their destinations. I wait for a moment to let them push past one another, before taking a step onto the platform. The daily commute by subway never seems to be any less soul-draining, no matter how many times I have taken this path.

A man in a dirty and crumpled coat sticks a bandaged hand out from a shadowed archway, asking for spare change. I shake my head in his general direction without making eye contact and walk by the man with a deliberate gait.

'Maybe one day I'll give him something,' the thought is brief, and I dismiss it as soon as it forms. I pull my heavy canvas bag closer to my side and start up the stairs that exit the heavy concrete tunnel.

The air whooshes upwards and out from the cold underground tunnel, creating a wind from behind which whips my dark brown hair every which way around my face. I take the steps one at a time, making sure I stay close to the side of the stairwell so that I am not creating space between myself and the handrail. I watch as my scuffed and marked shoes climb the stone steps, remembering previous trips when people had tried to push by me and trampled my toes.

The subway opens onto a small green area of the city, and the sunlight blankets me in warmth once again. I smile into the sunlight and take a deep breath of fresh air. I step to the side of the path and feel the grass give under my shoes. I close my eyes and wish I could stay and enjoy the day in this little patch of heaven. The alarm on my phone buzzes in the pocket of my slacks. I sigh and click it off. With a lingering look at the grass and the quiet tree in the center of the benches, I take a step back into the bustling traffic of humanity.

The bell rings as I open the door, a mild, brass clanging sound muted by the rows and rows of old books. I shrug the heavy bag off my shoulder and let it fall on the counter. The old bookstore is a second home to me and feels almost as comforting to me as the little park by the subway.

"Just a moment!" comes a voice from the back. I smile and pull the books from my bag. The smell of coffee wafts to my nose. The owner of the shop, Eleanor, steps out from between some stacks of books. I smile as she takes a sip of the drink she's holding. "Oh, it's just you, I thought we had a customer. Is it that time already?"

Eleanor pushes some of the books aside and sets her coffee cup on the counter. She glances at the books and nods towards the shelves at me. I pick up the books I had pulled out of my bag and begin to shelve them for her.

"You know, if you weren't so good at being on time and dependable, I wouldn't let you take books home with you," I roll my eyes, and mouth the next part with her, as I do most days. "This isn't a library you know. Most people buy the books they want to read, not just borrow them for a night," I smile and lean around the piles at her.

"It's quality check Eleanor, I've got to make sure the books still read correctly," I tell her with a grin. She clicks her tongue at me and shakes her head. "Any new books brought in today?" I ask her. She grins at me and nods.

"I left them in the back for you in a box. Tonight while you are closing up, if you'll unload them and get them checked into the system, I'd appreciate it. Please make sure to put them in the system before you take any of them to read," Eleanor smiles at me over her cup, and takes another sip. "Well, I'd better get home, or Charles will surely starve to death," Elenore takes the last drink of her coffee and heads back behind the stacks of books to the break room.

I run my hands over the spines of the familiar books and move to the front of the store. I hear the sound of the jingling bells from the back room and smile to myself. Alone amongst the countless worlds of fancy and dreams. "I don't think Charles would truly starve," I say to the books. "He is her cat, as I'm sure you know."

"I didn't know, but thank you for telling me," a voice breaking the silence startles me. A girl smiles sheepishly from the back of the shop, where she sat in a pile of books. She was a regular at the bookstore, and though I had never caught her name, her face was always a welcome one.

"No problem," I answer, trying to smooth the surprise out of my voice. I take my thick-rimmed glasses off and make a show of breathing on them and cleaning the lenses. I place them back on my face and push the hair out of my face. "Find a new treasure or ten?" I ask.

"Not really. I was hoping if I surrounded myself with my favorites, and just sat here for long enough, something would jump out at me. It doesn't seem to be working," the girl squints her eyes. "All it's resulted in is my feet falling asleep, and I'm fearful that if I get up I will knock over these piles in my attempt to stand," she laughs at herself. It's a timid sound.

"Would you like help?" I ask, not fully sure if I was asking if she wanted help standing, or putting the books back, or picking a book to buy.

"No, I'm good. Thanks though," she answers. I shrug and head back towards the front. I sit down on the chair at the front desk. I tap my finger on the chair's plush armrest. I bite my lip and scrunch my face up. I glance around looking for something new. I look up at the clock and frown. No time has gone by. "I'm going to be in the back a moment if that's alright?" I call to the girl sitting on the other side of the stacks.

"Sure, I'll be, well, here!" she shouts back with a laugh. I shake my head and spring up from the chair and wind my way to the back room. I notice several boxes stacked to the left of the back door. I smile and grab the top two boxes, and head back to the front of the store.

I place the boxes down and open them up to see what treasures they contain. I start unpacking the various old westerns, a few college textbooks, a romance, and a cookbook. Nothing in this box catches my eye, and I set them to the side. I open the second book and begin to pull them out when a crash from the back of the shop makes me jump.

"Sorry! I had to get up!" the customer yells from her now toppled book stacks. I roll my eyes and ask if she needs help putting them back. She declines my offer of assistance so I begin marking the titles and authors of the books from the first box down on a paper. "Sorry about that Telos," the girl is standing before me now, smiling sheepishly. "I didn't find anything. I'll be back in a few days to try again."

"No problem. You know Eleanor doesn't have a problem with your rather," I struggle to find a way to describe what she does to commune with the books in a way that won't offend one of our more regular customers. "Unique method of book selection as long as you don't leave piles around when you are finished," I smile at her, and she nods her head.

"Well, thanks. I'll be seeing you," She smiles and seems to pause to look at me for longer than is comfortable. I blink and she blushes, before rushing out the door, the bell ringing through the stacks.

I finish entering the books into the system and place them on their shelves. Turning to the box on the counter, I begin pulling them out one at a time. Most of this box of books seems to be the same as the other, until the last book, which was buried at the bottom of the box. I frown and pull the leather-bound tome from the box, with a grunt. I look at the cover but find no distinguishing marks on the brown surface.. Turning the book in my hand, I find the spine and back to be much the same.

"Must have lost a dust jacket," I mumble. I flip the book open and am surprised to find no publication information and no title page. I flip the book over, to see if I was holding it upside down. Nothing on the other side either. I let the book fall open and find no writing in the book at all.

"Blank sketchbook?" I ask the towering shelves. Such large heavy books weren't often used for sketching, but no lines on the pages didn't lend well for journaling either. I place the book to the side of the rest, unsure how to even begin to enter such a thing into the booking system.

With a frown, I gather the last box of books and bring it to the front. Regularly I would close the shop and walk to the small clearing to have a meal, but the night seems to get away from me. I eventually have all three of the boxes of books; minus the large tome, of course, entered into the system and placed on their respective shelves. I find a few older books on bookbinding and creation, and write the names and authors on the paper next to the register. I frown slightly as I consider what to write for the book with nothing on it, and decide to slide it into my pack without documenting it.