The smell of books was everywhere.
Old books, new books, worn books, previously owned books, but they all had one thing in common; the smell. That smell that is so captivating and good that you just can’t help but bury your nose between the pages and inhale.
That was why Remy loved working in a bookstore.
Well, not working exactly. She owned the place and lived in the apartment above it. It was a hipster paradise.
The bookstore was really the only reason she even lived in the City. Sure, it was fine to go in for a day or two and hang out, but she just couldn’t imagine how people actually lived here. She, personally, thought she was more suited for a well-furnished cave far, far away from civilization. That way the ignorant and the bigoted could never find her and she could exist in peace. Remy, eloquently, called them “assholes”.
It was appropriate.
The City was absolutely crawling with assholes. They were everywhere. They passed her on the street, sold her coffee, drove her cabs, and even came into her store to buy a book or two.
These books were lucky Remy loved them so much.
Not that that’s a very smart thing to do. She does own a bookstore, after all.
It was rainy on That Morning. Rain always helped Remy sleep better, but it didn’t help that her radio alarm clock had been set onto the “easy listening” station, which liked to play smooth jazz around the time most of the world usually got up.
(Source: scribbles-and-scratches)
