The book binder took off his spectacles as he said, “You should sit down, sir.”
His sigh resonated around the empty space, bouncing against my delicate ear drums. I didn’t like the sound of that sigh. It smack into my face like a runaway newspaper, with headlines that warned of apocalyptic doom.
“What seems to be the trouble?”
Mr. Brambleton rubbed his bloodshot eyes, massaging the temples and muttering a half-hearted verse. A last minute attempt to stifle the news? Naturally, I failed to dematerialize, and he looked my way with a dejected second sigh. “Them books is dead.”
No. This couldn’t be! “Dead? I don’t understand. You promised me they were repairable. I bought those books twenty years ago. I . . . I planned to give them to my daughter for her 21st birthday. It’s in two days!”
The measly little man only stared back at me, his mouth hanging open like a roasted hog on the embers. All I needed to do was plop a fresh red apple into that gap. Instead, I watched his false teeth jiggle against glistening gums.
He shook his white-topped head. “Nope. They was no good. Crumbled to pieces when I cracked open the spine.” Smacking his gums, he wandered to the counter. “I loves books, but you can’t save ’em all. Them books is only fit for the flames now.”
I braced myself against the table, fingers clenching an invisible stress ball. My doctor said it would help in times of trouble. Fat chance on that. No matter how many times I squeezed, my blood pressure continued to spike. Next time, I try a real stress ball. “Are you sure it’s my order? Dickens? I handed you A Christmas Carol, David Copperfield, and The Adventures of Oliver Twist.”
Mr. Brambleton blinked once and froze, like I was a stealthy wizard who’d turned him to stone. “Dickens, you say? Oh. Oh dear me. I thought you was here for the Chaucer.”
Copyright © 2015 by Emily Clayton
Originally appeared on Finish That Thought:
http://alissaleonard.blogspot.com/2015/04/finish-that-thought-2-43.html?showComment=1430267465100#c9118791958844589880
Emily Clayton 