He wandered into the bookstore without realizing it.
He had started out his day as he normally did. Showered, shaved, dressed. But, as he stepped outside, he felt like this wasn't a normal day. Something was different, but he couldn't tell what. So he locked his door and began his walk. Up and down streets he knew, and some he didn't. Through alleys and tunnels. When he got tired, he found a door and opened it.
On the other side was a room with shelves and shelves of books. He barely heard the tinkle of bell on the inside of the door, or even the "Hello! How may I help you?" from the woman behind the counter. He simply was in awe at the books! Big ones, slim ones. Tall ones and skinny. Spines and covers of all the colors in the rainbow and more!
Some of the books whispered to him, others screamed. "Come, take me home! Read me, READ ME NOW!" They all chorused as he wandered around the place. They all wanted his attention, they all wanted to be owned and cared for.
But the man was particular. Even more so than the average reader. He had heavy expectations of the books he owned. Not everything was up to that challenge. Not every book was worthy of reading, sometimes. But still he searched the room. Surely there must be something here, he thought.
That was when he shifted his gaze. Lifting his eyes from his normal view, he spotted something on a higher shelf. A shelf out of easy reach. Beyond the grasp of everyday. Looking around, the man found a stool to stand on, and with an extended strech of his arms and legs, he placed his fingers on the book he knew he longed for.
The man saw the leather cover was shiny. Not new from a fresh press, but still gleamed in the light. He saw prints fore and aft, from others who mishandled the book. But, he thought, these could be buffed out, with a little love and caring. As he gently turned the book, he spyed the gilted page edges, gleaming under the store's lights. Along the top, yellowed book marks stuck out in two or three places.
These he pulled and tossed to the floor. He didn't care where others had read before.
With the book firmly grasped in his hand, he approached the woman behind the counter. When he handed it to her, she looked at him over her glasses and told him that volume held a hefty price. He locked stares with her and replied with all the good ones do.
He left the store, leaving The Price lay upon the counter. He wanted to go home and begin his journey with the book. He knew it was going to be a tough read but he wanted to devour it.
One Page at A Time
