And the Sunlight Clasps the Earth (Chaelisa)

i

The door made a small creaking sound when Lisa pushed it open and stepped, almost hesitantly, into the small bookshop. The smell of printed paper and, well, books filled her nose, and she instantly felt comforted by the familiarity of it. A bell above the door jingled, alerting an elderly man behind the counter of the new customer.

"Good morning," the man greeted and smiled kindly.

"Morning." Lisa politely returned the smile, turning her eyes to the dozens after dozens of shelves filled with books.

It was just what Lisa had expected the shop to look like inside when she'd accidentally spotted it, driving past a few days earlier. Biblio, the name of the shop had sat above the door and peaked her interest. The shop oozed old-time charm, with big Persian mats covering the floors, the sturdy bookshelves rising all the way to the ceiling and blocking most of the natural light coming from the outside. It reminded her of Shakespeare and Company, a small bookshop in Paris which she'd never been to herself, but of which she'd seen gorgeous photos online.

Lisa loved books. She had, right away, discovered the joys of literature after learning to read at the tender age of six. It had been her way to escape ever since, making the long years in foster care slightly more bearable. Whenever she was placed in a new home, she would immediately find out where the nearest library was located, because she knew she would spend most of her time there. And when the new family, eventually, got bored with her—because, let's be honest, they always did—she at least had the adventures of Nancy Drew and the like to take back with her to the orphanage. Now, at the age of 32, she still found comfort in the written word, scouring through books very much the same way some people scoured through TV shows. Reading had always been her way of coping, her way of ignoring the realities of life and the fact that her life hadn't exactly turned out the way she'd imagined when she was growing up.

Making her way through the aisles, Lisa browsed the various sections on offer, from history to gardening and languages, until she spotted the one she was after: fiction. She slid her fingers along the spines, her eyes hungrily roaming over the titles and trying to decide which one to settle for.

"Can I help you in any way?" A gentle voice suddenly sounded behind her, and she visibly startled.

Turning to face the grey-haired man, Lisa gave another smile. "Oh, I'm just browsing. I don't know what I'm looking for." She shrugged. "Yet. "

"Ah, I see." He gave an understanding nod. "Do you know if it's something modern you're after, or are you more prone to classics?"

"I just finished Paulo Coelho's newest, so I think it's time for something older for a change," Lisa mused, her eyes darting between the two shelves titled 'classics'. She spotted various titles by Mark Twain and pursed her lips in contemplation. She hadn't read anything by him in a while.

The shop owner followed Lisa's line of sight. "Always an excellent choice," he approved. "I'll be at the front if you need anything. Don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you," Lisa noted absentmindedly, already pondering the choices on offer. She wanted something different this time, so that ruled out the usual suspects, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Picking up a collection of short stories titled The £1,000,000 Bank Note and Other New Stories instead, she flipped through the book and decided it was what she was after. Content with her choice, Lisa went to pay for the find, making a mental note to visit the charming book shop again sometime soon.

~

"Margaret Atwood? Yet another excellent choice, miss," the owner of the book shop complimented and typed the price into the cash register.

"A girl needs to feel empowered every once in a while." Lisa chuckled, her voice slightly raspy. Her head was pounding with a constant reminder of the hangover she was currently nursing, but she powered through it. "And please, call me Lisa. 'Miss' makes me sound like a school teacher."