Page 42 Bookstore Novels & Stories

Its cover read “Aurora Sparks.” “I’ll take this one,” I declared, lifting it off the shelf. The old man’s eyes sparkled behind his spectacles. “A fine choice. You have an eye for the unusual.” I handed him the book, and he produced a receipt. “That’ll be thirty dollars.” “Thanks,” I said, taking the receipt. “You’ll enjoy reading it in the eastern part of the store,” he suggested, nodding toward a dimly lit corner.

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.

The indifference of people moving past who had no idea what you were carrying and didn't need to. He walked and somehow ended up on the east side. Looked up. The bookstore. He stood on the pavement outside it and looked at the sign and thought about the first time he'd been here. Wednesday morning. Standing in the sci-fi section for twenty minutes pretending to browse while he watched Damien Voss hold a Fitzgerald like it had answers in it. He went in now. The bell above the door made a small sound. The bookstore smelled like books, typical. He stood inside the entrance and let his eyes adjust and thought about nothing in particular and everything simultaneously.

The coffee smelled amazing, and she waited for the stupid pot to finish. “Do you have a book on English history?” A older gentleman asked. “If we have one it will be in the history section, try the far-left side. Three or four sleeves down.” Majesta waved toward the section of the store. The coffee finished and she poured herself a cup and added some sugar. The first sip was to die for, and she moaned into her mug. With that, she went to the register and waited to see what sold for the day. They also took old schoolbooks to be resold. It was a nice way to help out the college students. She heard a thud and looked up to see a rather large bag of books sitting on the counter.

I smile to myself , happy that I will be able to look at this place whenever I want. I turn around swiftly , beginning the rest of my journey towards the stables. After a few miles , I see the stables coming in to my view. At first , the stables look small as small as a servants room however , as I step closer and closer towards it it seems to get larger and larger by size. I am a few feet away from it , and instead of entering it I just stare at it in awe. It is massive compared to the stables I had back at home – I take a deep breath and smell the fresh woody smell that radiates from the chocolate coloured wood. It feels comfortable and cozy here – I can tell that I will be spending most o

she said, smiling happily at the thought of their first grandchild. “Hopefully, ma. By the way, I’m here to get my books.” “The ones by Jakara Blue? Yes, it’s on the bookshelf in your room.” Later in my room, I indeed saw about ten books by Jakara Blue that were arranged neatly on a shelf. I picked one of them and traced the embossed author’s name with my finger. This explained why I used the name Jakara Blue as my new name in Japan. It must be because I was an avid reader of Jakara Blue’s books. Remembering about my purpose in coming here, I started opening the folders that were arranged on another corner of the shelf. I had the habit of placing important documents in a folder.

There was a notice of Free gIve aways from the book store of the University New York University Bookstore a few walks away from the building in education. “Later, I will read that magazine. It’s good that I have my Structure in Linguistics book now.” She grabbed her toothbrush but after a while. “I’ll eat my leftover lasagna spaghetti and get my bottled lemon juice.” She murmured to herself and return to the bed to get the magazine as she began to eat her spaghetti.

I ran some leave in conditioner and gel through my curls before pinning back the sides with Bobby pins. When I went out to the living room, Bishop was looking at my books. “You have quite a nice collection here,” he said, picking up my well worn copy of ‘Gone with the Wind.” “Thanks. Books are kind of my thing.” “His Majesty said you own a bookstore and that you plan on hiring a store manager.” “I promoted my friend to the store manager. She’s been with me since I bought the shop.” “Wise. Someone who already knows the business.” I nodded as he shelved Margaret Mitchell’s classic. “So, I’m sure you’re curious about what is going to happen next.”

Greta and Gabby made their way to Page Turner’s Bookstore just down the street from the Blue Moon Inn. Once inside the warmth of the large shop, Greta was surprised to see a bright modern shop, which included not only a metaphysical section, but my children’s section, too. With soft upbeat music playing in the background, it didn’t take long to find the shopkeeper chatting away to a rather wild looking dog by a fireplace.

"Bookstore." "That means downstairs." "Not in a mall, but a bookstore on Cempaka Street. Instantly Alsava remembered the cliche reasons number four earlier: I just moved to this city, still foreign! "I know where the bookstore is from the internet." "Okay. After finished eating." Dadang continues to drink his coffee. Meanwhile, Alsava, while rummaging, was busy playing with her smartphone and again got an eye-catch from Dadang. "What?" spat out Alsava, mouth full of cake cream.