Every morning, Michael arrived at the bus stop a quarter to 8:00, and every morning there she was sitting on the bench in the small glass enclosure. Each week she’d be reading something new, this particular day it was a romance novel (the cover had a man with shampoo commercial hair flowing in the wind as a lighthouse glowed in the distance).
Michael had yet to conjure the nerve to say a word, despite them sharing the same waiting area for the past three months. Never disturb someone while they’re reading, a phrase his mother liked to repeat when he was a child. He had often pestered her after finishing his homework to seek her approval to go play outside, the other kids in the neighborhood already spilled out into the street for a game of hockey, but instead he’d get a hissing “Shhh” accompanied by a deep furrowed brow as his mother pressed her finger to her lips. Would this woman give him the same reaction? He wasn’t sure if it was only his mother or perhaps a seeded gesture the books planted into reader’s minds.
The last book he read was in college. His eyes grew wide as he thought that over. It’d been four years since he read something besides headlines and clips of articles on his phone. The book was for an elective he had taken, being a business major he needed something to fill his schedule and found himself in Film Theory. All his friends who had taken the class promised him an easy A. “You just sit around and watch movies,” his friend Andrew had said. Sitting around and watching movies sounded like the perfect way to cap off his busy packed-schedule Thursdays. Unfortunately the professor had a new idea he wanted to try out the semester Michael signed up. For their final project they were to read a book and the compare it to its movie counterpart in a formal essay.
The book Michael had to read was about an older man who dreamed of being a samurai all throughout his childhood, but had grown up in Brooklyn where samurais were about as common as quiet evenings on the farm. Michael remembered slogging through the book, it was such a chore. He read it while slurping spoonful’s of soggy cereal in the morning, chocolate flavored squares that turned his milk into a delectable treat. He read it as his clothes spun in the dorm dryer, the one that costs three dollars per cycle. His memories of the book weren’t only attached to the words he’d read on the page but also the places he visited while reading it.
When it came time to watch the movie he was left disappointed. The entire section about the man running up and down the streets as a child with a cardboard katana was absent from the film. It was the part of the book he had read the night he was feeling too tired to go out to the bars with his friends. He instead stayed in and sipped coffee late into the night, falling asleep sometime around midnight and waking up alongside the book, which he luckily had placed a sock between the pages in place of a bookmark.
His essay explained how although the parts of the book that were chosen for the movie were shot well, acted well, lighted well, edited well, there were so many scenes the two hour runtime just couldn’t fit. What about the scene Michael had read the day he was eating chicken tenders in the lounge? The old man in the story had finished a hard day of work, just as Michael had done with his classes, and was treating himself to a bit of pretend swordplay atop the apartment building in which he lived. A cane of polished oak became an ancient blade as the moon watched from its galactic perch. As the old man swiped his blade toward imaginary foes Michael panicked as he tried to wipe away a smear of red sauce that had dripped from his meal onto page 206.
He wondered what type of experiences she was taking away from her time spent reading, and if the movies she perhaps watched afterwards left her disappointed. Was she reading any scenes like that? When she looked back on each book and her time spent reading them would she see Michael, standing to the side of the small enclosure trying his best to look busy as he scrolled through his phone?
When the bus rolled up he watched as she gathered her things, a purse, umbrella, and a plastic bag which he assumed held her lunch. She had placed the book, the spine screaming as it laid open, on the bench. When she got up the book, perhaps caught on the edge of her long black pea-coat, tumbled to the ground. Michael rushed toward it and managed to catch it before it found its way into a sticky puddle of what he could only assume was melted ice cream left over from the night before.
“You’re a lifesaver,” she said.
Michael had managed to save her spot in the book by placing his phone between the pages.
“A small gesture,” he replied. He placed his phone into his pocket but left a finger wedged between the pages. “Do you have a bookmark?” She fetched one from her purse and handed it to him. He relieved his finger and handed the book back to her. The bus driver honked.
“I’m Kate by the way,” she said.
“Michael.”
“Care to join me on the bus, Michael?”
“I’d like that.”
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If you’re looking for more reading options, I have a book available on Kindle.
The Centennial Courtship on Kindle.
Abigail Bloom's life is thrown into a sweeping romance when a new deputy rolls into the small town of Brooks Landing, but when her ex-husband enters back into her life, she's unsure if she can hold onto her new chance at true love. A break-in in the small town causes Abigail's ex to suspect the new deputy - Can she trust her new love interest or is he using her as an alibi?
Available on Kindle Vella:
(First 3 episodes FREE) John Prince's life in Peak Creek seems perfect. He's been seeing Cassandra Queen for six months and hopes to move in together. However, Cassandra resists the change, putting John's romantic future into question. When an opportunity to advance at work opens up, John feels his luck turning around. Katie Young, a recent transfer at the firm, has other plans. Their rivalry collides when they have to co-present during a company retreat.
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