Bookstore
There are whispers everywhere, in every genre’s section.
The cookbook’s section is well-lit; gleaming baking pans and shiny whisks catch the track lighting and beckon to you. The colorful spines of the books lift your spirits; impel you to believe that, Yes! You can make a silky, sexy risotto or grill the perfect juicy steak. I’m efficient. You need me. Think of all the creations! Invite your friends!
It’s a sharp contrast, then, to the true crime and mystery section, located in one of many smaller vaults throughout the bookstore. The floor is metal and clanks ominously when you step in…as if you are entering a jail cell yourself. The space is small, room for maybe for two people, and is very uncomfortable for anyone who is claustrophobic. You are uncomfortable? Why not pick up a book about serial killers, then? Don’t you want to know the worst humanity is capable of?
The sturdy Fiction section is perhaps the most visible. Front of the shop, lined up and faced out in neat rows in taller bookcases, each decorated cover or clever title vie for your attention. Pick me! My story is the most compelling! I have friends-to-lovers! I have an abusive parent and a chance at redemption! I have a dark secret past! This book is YOU!
And what about the children’s section? Packed with low benches, couches or poufs, the call to sit and get lost in innocence envelopes you. The tumbly, haphazard nature of semi-organized books here act as the proverbial pat on the head, kiss on the cheek or full-body hug. Be nice. Be a good friend. It’s okay to be sad. Love everybody.
It’s no wonder we never want to leave a bookstore; every experience we ever could have in this life is already there.