It was a horribly good day to buy a book.
The rain was slashing across the street, swiping people’s faces left and right and dribbling down their cheeks as if impersonating their inner tears, as they cried internally about such weather as this.
The wind was vicious; it seemed to shove me this way and that as if it couldn’t quite make up its mind on where exactly it wanted to send me. I tucked my chin to my chest and plowed forward as well as I could.
Water rolled off the rooftops and ran down the streets, it showered those of us brave enough to face it and drenched our coats and bags. It washed dirt off of windows and threatened to make the sea overflow. It baptized the town for Autumn.
The door of the bookshop shut with a bang, the wind reluctant to release me from its clutches. I stood there in the doorway, just dripping, allowing the warmth to momentarily distract me from my wetness. When I deemed it safe enough, I approached the books, wary of any stray water droplets that might fall from my coat.
I wandered this way and that, down the narrow aisles, into the cozier nooks of the shop until my eyes fell upon the one.
We held each other’s gaze for a whole three minutes until my hands were barely dry enough to reach out and take him. I held him at arm’s length, away from my impermeable raincoat that had been sufficiently permeated.
His thin paper pages seemed to curl at the mere sight of the water dripping from my hood and nose, but I knew that I must have him.
“Nasty weather, isn’t it?” the cashier commented as I paid, placing my stoic little friend in a plastic bag that I then tucked into my purse.
“Horrible,” I agreed, and I thanked her.
What a thrill it was to carry his small life home, wrapped up in his small hiding place at the bottom of my bag. It was a rebellion against nature, an abomination to rain such as this whose very purpose was to deluge.
We practically swam down the street until we reached home and burst through the front door as if carried by a tidal wave. I turned the lock and walked out of my puddle and out of my coat, wiping my hands dry on my jeans.
I pulled out my dry, little treasure and smiled, curled up and began to read.
Yes, what a horribly good day to buy a book.