Blunt

The hazy atmosphere was a warm bubble. It felt like autumn, when the dust sparkles in the air. The smell of the bookstore was a mixture of old and new. The stale, chemical tinge on new plastic figurines, mixed with yellowed, pages, a hint of mildew from storage. The carpet reminded her of a library, the thin layer barely covering up the cement floor beneath her boots. She felt alive, unable to focus enough on the thousands of books that filled the shelves. A wonder to behold, a new place, and one so full of interesting splendor. It was an overload of senses, all pleasant. Unable to hold a conversation, she simply let her silence be interpreted without thought. There were characters she liked, movies and television icons in various forms. A wall of empty journals caught her eye and she thought of the value it would hold to purchase one, something she did often, though she rarely filled all the pages these days. Her imagination took her away, where she considered what it would feel like to sit in front of a fire with a stack of books, a soft blanket, and a comfortable couch. Time would only be an illusion granting the simplicity of opportunity that indulging in her own pleasures would allow. Given the time and space, she had come to realize that certain escapes never aligned with her morals, more added to the list over time. Now, stability came from within. Not always an eternal fountain, but nonetheless, often working tirelessly to remind her of the calmness. The fire that could be ignited, only softened by water, flowing, rather than burning. Like a warm bath, soothing her so that she could carry it into her body, her voice, and her movements. Choices surrounded her and each one, it's own adventure, if she dared to take the time to ponder the words. She longed to feel the cover of the publications on the shelf, instead following her partner around, half-listening as the stimulus would suffice. If only she had a moment to consult the growing list of books she had written down. Instead, she barely looked at her clock before being interrupted and possibly judged for seemingly not paying attention. She should have looked it up beforehand, ready to bring a stack to the counter, if they could go on a hunt together to find the titles she had in mind. Only, she hadn't thought of it, and was only coming across rude, unable to focus when there were so many lives lingering on the shelves.