By The Book Nyt Novels & Stories

Emma answered the call, still nestled against Jake's side on the couch. "Maya, this better be good, because your timing is" "Em, thank God you answered. Are you sitting down?" Emma felt a chill of premonition. "What's wrong?" "It's not wrong, it's incredible. *The New York Times* just called me. They want to do a feature story on your emotional authenticity breakthrough, and they're considering your manuscript for their fall literary fiction recommendations." Emma stared at Jake, seeing her own shock reflected in his expression.

When Darius calls and asks if I want to get out for a bit, I say yes before he even finishes the question. "Luna and Cathy are having a shopping spree," he says. "Thought you might want a breather." "Please. Anywhere that's not here." He picks me up twenty minutes later and drives us to a bookstore in Brooklyn I've never been to. Small, independent, the kind of place that smells like old paper and coffee. "Come on." He takes my hand and leads me inside. We wander through the shelves aimlessly, no destination in mind. He pulls books at random and reads me the back covers in dramatic voices that make me laugh. I find a cookbook with ridiculous recipes and show him one for "deconstructed cereal

“Bree, what was that?” Brianna was occupied flipping through the first book, so she didn’t answer at first. He saw her shocked expression and got by her side to check the name of the book she was reading. ‘The peacemaker fallacy: waging war as a business strategy’ Nate frowned, trying to make sense out the title. “Bree, what is it?” “Love… it’s about the Council. All of them, look.” She got a few pieces of paper that didn’t belong to any book and showed him what she saw.

He shifts back; putting a seat between us and truly looking horrified. Bibah simply shakes her head at our childish shenanigans and takes a sip of her iced latte, metal straw clinking in the Hydro Flask. “The Awoo Book Club’s pick for this week is H.P Lovecraft.” She pats the voluminous book atop the pile and I notice it’s the library copy of H.P Lovecraft’s Omnibus 3. “I’m so excited to roast his ass.”

About the neighborhood, about old memories, about the book. Always the book. The reason my life became a mess. “You haven’t forgotten it, have you?” he asked, lowering his voice as though it were some sacred secret. I blinked at him. “The book?” He grinned knowingly. “The one you started sketching out before you left. The one that made you pack up and chase New York in the first place. Your best seller. Don’t tell me you’ve buried it.”

I glance at the cover of the book she slid across the counter: a Catherine Bybee novel. “Oh, wow, Mathilda. You’re a fan of Catherine Bybee?” I smile, genuinely impressed as I open the ledger. “It’s refreshing to see a teenager with such classic taste. Most girls your age are glued to their phones, but here you are, diving into a good romance.”

“The conventions I attend are usually so dull compared to all this.” “This is relatively small. You should see the BookExpo America at the Jacob Javits Center in New York City. That one is about three times the size, but for your debut, I believe this event is perfect. You’ll have a better opportunity to talk to people who are interested in your book and not just looking for freebies.”

Athena mused aloud. Vincent watched as Athena explored his brother's room, her curiosity is evident. He noticed her gaze falling on Nyx's small bookshelf, where a collection of classic literature stood, including works by Kafka, Murakami, and Dostoevsky. He saw her pick up a book titled "Alice's Adventure in Wonderland" and remembered how much Nyx loved reading it. "He loved that book. It was always with him," Vincent said, watching Athena's reaction closely. "What book?" Athena asked, curious about the significance of the book.

They were all adjusted alphabetically. He then randomly picked a book. ‘If I had your Face – By Frances Cha’ He read the title. He opened the book. On the first page, there was her name and a date written. The date when she either got the book or started reading it. He flipped through the pages. She had underlined some context. Marked notes somewhere. Scribbled replies to some lines. He laughed to himself. There was this line she had highlighted, “In New York, you can talk to anyone about anything at any time and have a conversation so long you'll fall a little in love with that person, and then never see them again.”

Then left before the conversation could continue. Back inside his office, the wrapped book still sat on his desk. Waiting. Walter picked it up. His thumb brushed the edge of the paper. The same way it had brushed the novel cover in her bookstore. Outside, Manhattan stretched endlessly beneath the afternoon sun. Millions of people. Millions of stories. Yet somehow one bookstore assistant had managed to do what investors, executives, and rivals never could. She had made him look inward. Walter stared at the skyline. Then at the book.