Bookworm Edwards Co の小説・ストーリー

"THANK you and have a nice day!" I smiled at the two high schoolers as I handed them the bag of comics they'd purchased in the bookstore. It was already my third day at work. Edward's Bookshop was a five-year-old bookstore located at Conrad Blvd. Aside from different types of books, the bookstore also sells comics, magazines, stationers, CDs, souvenirs, and collection items. Today, I was assigned behind the cash register. "Those teens looked smitten by you."

Raymond was pouring coffee, humming something soft under his breath, shirtless as usual, entirely too distracting. "What’s this?" I asked. He glanced over. "Read it." I unfolded the note. > Dear lovers, There is a bookstore in the village. Not just any bookstore. One where people leave pieces of themselves behind. Pages of poetry. Notes. Secrets. The owner lets you browse, read, and write your own. Consider it today’s adventure. —Mama Elsie I smiled so hard it hurt, “you planned this also right?” He nodded. --- Later That Morning The drive down was quiet.

“He sounded like he was hiding something.” Dwight sighed again, pulling her into his arms. They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth as the cool morning breeze brushed against their skin. "Nothing would go wrong again, Mandy! not when I'm alive. I promise" Dwight said whispering to Mandy's ears. As they headed back into the mansion, Dwight stopped Mandy in front of a massive door, one she hadn’t noticed before. “My father was a lover of books,” Dwight said with a soft smile. “This is the Mendez library. There are over 50,000 books in here.”

Sniffing carefully to make sure he is not being followed, he pushes the door open. Behind the door is a large room with thousands of shelves lined in straight lines. Each shelf has over hundreds of books which are thick with dust and cobwebs. A strong scent of sewage and fungi is in the air but Eduard is not bothered by it. He holds the lamp higher and walks ahead. Mice scurry off as he approaches a shelf in the farthest corner. Scanning through the dusty shelves, he finally finds a thick leather bound book. He takes it out and dusts it well.

The walk to the bookstore was shorter than she expected. Nestled between two larger buildings, its faded sign read "Willow’s Nook.” A small bell chimed as they stepped inside, and the scent of old paper and polished wood greeted them. The librarian was a small lady with a bob cut and cat eyed glasses, probably in her fifties. The space was cozy, with narrow aisles lined with overflowing shelves and dim lamps casting a warm glow. It felt like stepping into another world, one untouched by time.

Here it comes, I am about to lose my job, she thought. Edwards face paled at the memory, he had paid one of the boys from Rugby to add sneezing powder to every one of those pompous ladies’ books, he had no idea that this poor angel of a woman would be getting the blame, much less locked in the cupboard for something that was entirely out of her control!

It should have felt comforting, safe, but instead I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. An older man looked up from behind the counter when we entered. “Good morning, ladies. Welcome to Harrison’s. I’m Edward. How can I help you today?” “We’re looking for something related to pack history,” Mom said. “Historical journals, leadership documents, anything that might interest someone who studies Beta records from previous generations.” Edward’s eyes lit up. “Ah, a scholar of pack history. I have just the section for you. Follow me.” He led us to the back of the store where several shelves held leather-bound journals and carefully preserved documents. Mom and I started browsing together,

“Do you think the bookstore next to Wixon still has it?” Valencia leaned on the kitchen counter near the sink, tapping her fingers on the ceramic surface. “Yeah, trust me the last time I visited that bookstore down on 2nd street was 2 days ago. it was a recent visit so I’m sure they still have a few left in the Non-fiction section.” The voice on the phone said.

The soft groan of wood rang out in the quiet bookstore as Lena turned over the last sign on the door: **CLOSED**. Outside, the city drew a breath, illuminated by amber streetlights and the quiet rumble of passing cars. Within, the world held its breath. Warm. Intimate. Holy.