A Series of Observations

It was the middle of May and the weather had just turned from consistent storms to the bliss of warmth from the sun. Perhaps early yet to be so comfortable in the suns embrace, but spirits were high regardless. It was a weekend the woman had anticipated all week.

She wore a dress that flowed in the gentle breeze, her hair natural and untamed. The woman felt beautiful and reflected that feeling in every step. It was only the start of her day, but it held so much promise, and she was determined to make the most of it.

The local library was holding a book sale in efforts to relieve themselves of the copious donations that are graciously made. Those with the love of words flocked to such occasions, and the woman was no different from the rest in that regard.

The man woke with an entirely different plan. A rigid structure of taking care of his body and then the unending piles of work that gathered around him, he wasn’t entirely familiar with the concept of days off. He thrived off this routine and his life reflected that discipline at every moment.

He left his apartment in search of coffee and groceries and would find something else entirely, the day deciding for him what is most important. Walking down the street he noticed the sweet scent in the air carried from the flowers that adorned the windowsills of businesses and planters along the street. He found relief that the sun had finally come to visit, as the days of rain had begun to wear on even him.

The woman walked in the direction of the library, bag stored over her arm and her excitement growing with every step. She was only a half hour late to the start of the event, but she hoped that there were still good titles to take home with her.

She entered the building’s basement with the same optimism, despite the crowd that she had seen walking away with bags full of books. Getting straight to work, she perused every title, as no opportunity to take home a new world with her would be missed.

The scent that filled the air felt like home despite the opposing scent of the old building. People chatted respectfully and added books to their piles, children read books in the corner. The woman ran her hand down the lengths of spines, taking certain options off the shelf and listening to the delicate cracks of the spines or crinkle of plastic as she explored their possibilities.

The woman became enthralled by this practice and continued without concern.

The man had been walking in the same direction, a path he often takes on the days where he accomplishes the menial tasks of adulthood. As he hurried past the local library, he took pause, noticing a discrete sign indicating a sale.

It would be a divergence from his plans, but he thought of the few birthdays he had to find gifts for, and the ridiculous amount of non-fiction that collected dust on his shelves at home. He thought that a quick stop would be no trouble and hoped to find an interesting story for himself to enjoy.

Entering the library basement, he questioned the success he would find here. The present clientele averaged at a respectable 70 years, and though that did not encourage his optimism, he figured the older generation might just be sitting on something good.

He had no inkling as to what he was looking for, but he was aware of a few authors to keep an eye out for. Walking throughout the shelves, he studied carefully, as he did all things. Moving between the stacks was a dance he found a rhythm in, between history and memoirs, travel, and cookbooks, he found himself amongst the plethora of fiction.

He had acquired a couple options for his friends, ones he felt would be greatly appreciated, and now was in search for himself. The man made another turn of a shelf to further explore his options.

There she was, a woman like no other he had seen, and a feeling pierced him with a force that stunned him in place. She was looking down, reading a book description, her hair gently gracing past her shoulder and in some moments, slipping down to hide her features.

This would not do, he had to see more, get closer to her. He felt the urgency in every fiber of his body and as she began to walk away, he followed. On the other side of the shelf, he admired her as they continued along the selections.

The woman had selected far more books than she would need, but she had good intentions for every one of them. She was moving along the final racks of fiction when she saw him.

Through the books to the other side of the shelf, the man before her was handsome to say the very least. With a refined aesthetic that mismatched her eclectic charm, she felt drawn to him. Embarrassment flooded her and she looked to her books again, she always felt safe in within their pages and sought refuge once more.

Yet as she stepped, so did he. A hint of a smirk decorated his lips, an opposing shy smile on her own. They stepped again. One more time, nearly to the end of the shelf. Their eyes met for a moment and though they certainly had never met before, they seemed to recognize something in the other.

As if only a polite greeting, the man looked away again, taking a book from the shelf to determine its worthiness, without reading a single word. His distraction was far too captivating to find fulfillment anywhere else. He stepped again, so did she, their eyes met for one more instant.

The woman’s heart rate quickened, and she added a book to her pile without reading the title. She stepped again, so did he.

Three more steps was all it took, and they met face to face at the end, as if bumping into each other on accident. They laughed their apologizes and whispered their hellos.

“Could help me find a book?” he asked, his deep voice travelling down her spine with electricity.

“I’d love to.” She chimed.

They stepped together this time.