Small Spaces Books Novels & Stories

"Sure, no problem." Leah obediently nodded. As Colin's figure disappeared around the corner of the staircase, Leah's smile instantly crumbled, revealing a cold and calculating expression. Holy cow, that was a close call. Almost blew my cover. She shoved the comic book into her bag, placing it at the very bottom before finally feeling relieved. The bookstore appeared small from the outside, but the interior space was quite spacious, filled with an abundance of vintage books, particularly focused on technology and astronomy. Leah roamed around downstairs and by the counter, she noticed an old-fashioned piano.

I didn't want to die in this house, nor did I want to remain trapped in their world after I died. Nevertheless, my belongings still had to be taken care of. That room of mine—the smallest storage room in the Gardner residence—was less than 100 square feet. The wallpaper was peeling, and there were cracks in the floor. It was full of old books from my high school days, examination papers that had yellowed under the sun, and I also had a few T-shirts that had been washed till they faded almost white.

"You don't have to be self-conscious. You wanted more information on the Luna's though, right?" "Right," I said with a nod, breathing an internal sigh of relief. He began to drag his fingers along the spine of the books, and I just stood back and watched. "Aha," he said at last, plucking a book from the shelf. It was a decent sized book, but nowhere near the size of those around it. "This is the history of the Luna's for the past century." "A whole century and it's that small?" I asked in surprise.

"It's my space and I get to do whatever I want." "Off course , it's yours." She examined the space like she was mentally cataloging everything wrong with it. "Where's the personality? The color? Any evidence that an actual human lives here and not just a very organized ghost?" "Interior design isn't exactly a priority." "Clearly." She rose to her feet and moved to my bookshelf, which contains exactly twelve books, all business theory. "Okay, we need to fix this situation." She leaned on it with her arms crossed. "We can't keep living like this."

The home office had lots of built in book shelves that we would put them on when we moved to the new house. I leaned on the door frame and watched her work. She had her hair piled on top of her head with no make up. She wore a tiny pair of short shorts and a thin tank top on. It was in the 80's which was spring in South Florida. I licked my lips when she bent over to arrange something inside one of the boxes. Her butt cheeks poked out a little and I reached down to adjust myself.

He had seen it in a video once but never in real life. He was truly impressed by Ruben's noble and meticulous character. The library was divided into three sections. A reading space with a coffee and snack corner obviously custom made for Luke, the main library where books were stored in different sections separated by walls. Descriptive head plates hung in the corner of the walls, labeled Space books, Cyber security and tech, medicine and engineering and the third section was a comfortable three bedroom apartment with individual bathrooms and a kitchen.

About the bookstore and the home they'd made and the way people moved through certain spaces differently—slower, more themselves. "I wanted to build something that outlasted me," she said. "When I was young, that felt like—I thought it meant something enormous. A legacy. Something historical." She shook her head. "But it's not. It's a woman named Lisa who came in broken and left with books that helped. And three locations full of other Lisa moments I'll never know about." "That's not small." "It doesn't feel small. It feels—exact. Like the right size." She looked at him. "Does the club feel like that for you? Like you built the right size thing?"

Everyone crowded closer, unable to hold back their curiosity. On the bank statement, there was only a single deposit of 1,300 dollars. That lone transaction sat there like a blade, slicing straight through the carefully woven lies of Nancy and her son. The entire room fell into silence. The guests' expressions shifted from scorn toward me to shock and doubt directed at the Jones family. Then, the whispers started again, swelling like a rising tide. "Oh, my God! It really is only 1,300. Not 130,000? Nancy, why would you tell such a lie?"

THOMAS The library has never felt smaller. Not physically, of course. This library could comfortably accommodate twenty people and still leave room to pace, but somehow the space seems to shrink around us that morning. The rest of the house recedes into irrelevance while Iris sits cross-legged on the sofa opposite me with a laptop balanced on her knees. Sketchbooks cover half the table. Two legal pads have vanished beneath fabric swatches she somehow produces from nowhere. Two cups of coffee sit abandoned and forgotten, growing steadily colder while sunlight and rain take turns claiming the windows behind us.

As in, twice the size of hers, and she considered that place big. All the furnishing was either grey or black. The bed was pressed up against the wall, and the space in the middle of the room was enough to put three more beds. She pictured herself converting the space into her mini library with a bean bag so she could read here without noise. Even after getting the shelves, there would still be enough space to make the room cosy. “Oh my God. It’s big, Doris.” “Hugeee,” Doris said. “He like big things.”