the bookshop

The bookshop wasn't somewhere you visited deliberately.  You somehow just found yourself there.  I might have been the rain that drove you inside seeking shelter or the sight of someone you were desperate to avoid.  Whatever the reason, once you had visited the bookshop, you always went back.

The fantastic thing was that they always seemed to have a battered copy of the exact text you were looking for.  If you wanted to find a childhood memory then this was the place.  If you needed a first edition, then the owner would be able to find you a copy.  

Patrons of the bookshop were always polite but kept a distance.  It was truly a silent place and Tamzin liked nothing better than spending a dusty afternoon lost in the rows of old books with yellowing pages.  Today she rushed to the shop and walked in, the brass bell ringing, announcing her arrival.

"Ah Tamzin, I was waiting for you." said the owner.  "I have this for you."  He handed her a package wrapped in brown paper and string.  The card said 'enjoy.  Rochester.1".  She carefully opened the packages and there, underneath the layers of brown paper, was a first edition of Jane Eyre.

The End

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