Escape

Chapter Two

 It's about 10:30 am when I leave the interview. I kill an hour or two by strolling around the other shops around the diner. There are some other bars, another diner, some clothing stores, and a bookstore. I go into each shop, purposely leaving the bookstore for last. I've always enjoyed reading occasionally, but since arriving here it's the only hobby I have. I don't know anyone here and I've never been the most extraverted person. So, I spend my time reading, which I honestly prefer.

I walk into the bookstore and it has that wonderful "old bookstore" smell. It's intoxicating. The place seems small at first, but I soon realize it's long and skinny with books from floor to ceiling. It looks like it has books for miles. Old books, new books, books in other languages. I walk through the entire place reading almost every book title I see, passing a ladder on each wall that extends all the up the ten-foot ceilings. As I make my way back to the front of the store, a dark-haired man walks up to the counter. His hair lays over his forehead with a part down the middle, like a '90s Leonardo DiCaprio. It's so dark, almost black. My eyes scan his arms that are full of tattoos, his nails are painted black, and his fingers are covered in silver rings. His black short sleeved button-up shirt has just enough buttons undone to see that his arms aren't the only areas covered in tattoos.

"Can I help you?" He says as he looks at me through the hair that lays over his eyebrows. He smiles at me with a wide smile showing perfect teeth. His accent isn't quite as thick as others I've heard, he's much easier to understand. His exterior is tough, but he radiates warmth.

"Um, yeah, I guess. Any recommendations? Something that people here find popular?" I ask.

He furrows his brow, "Hm, I'm not really up on what's popular, unless you're into sparkling vampires which seem to be all the rage. But if you're looking to take a bit of a risk..." He eyes a small basket in front of the counter. It's full of books wrapped in brown parchment so you can't see the cover. On the front of each book is a handwritten description of the plot. The sign on the front on the basket says, "Don't Judge a Book by the Cover". I grab one right on top and the description is about a girl starting her first year at college where she meets a boy opposite her, and they fall in love. Very cliché, but I live for cheesy love stories.

"I guess we'll go with this one," I say and offer a small smile and place the book on the small glass counter. I grab my wallet and the dark-haired man holds up his hand.

"It's on the house," he smiles. He must notice the confused look on my face because he continues, "I mean, just bring it back when you're done, and you can switch it out with another one from the basket."

"Oh, are you sure?" I ask timidly.

He runs his hand through his thick hair and smiles, "I haven't seen you in here before. Are you new to the area?" He asks ignoring my question.

"Erm, yeah I am. That obvious, huh?" I chuckle knowing that it is very obvious that I am not from around here.

"A bit," he laughs, "Well, I hope you enjoy the book, and I hope to see you next time." He offers a kind smile, and he watches me leave the store as I thank him again.

I walk down the road a bit more. It's now past lunch time and all I had for breakfast was my usual scone, so I step inside an small restaurant and order lunch to-go. I'm eager to get back and read my new find.

I step into my apartment and walk to the kitchen. After putting my groceries away, I place my lunch onto a plate and pour myself an iced tea. I take it to the small couch and place my plate on the coffee table. I rummage through my bag and find the book and begin to read.

What feels like an hour ends up being four when I realize I've read to the middle of the book. The book wasn't necessarily a long one, but I didn't expect to be so drawn in so much. I only picked at my lunch because I couldn't pull myself away from the story, so I pack it up into a Tupperware container and put it in the fridge, then remembering my groceries from earlier. I've always preferred take-out over cooking. At least I won't have to buy a lunch tomorrow for work, or dinner.

I grab a bottle of wine from the counter and pour myself a glass. I walk over to the living room window and watch people stroll by. I love people watching, especially in a place so new to me. I love hearing their accents as their conversations pass my window. Mothers pushing their infants in strollers, couples walking hand in hand, groups of friends walking to the nearest pub. I still feel like a stranger here, like I'm just visiting. It hasn't quite hit me that this is supposed to home now, and I have no plans to leave, hopefully.

I finish off my first glass of wine and pour myself another as I sit back on the couch. The sun is starting to set and offers a warm glow into the apartment. I turn on the lamp next to the couch and continue to read, immersing myself back into the mind of a young college girl with the world at her feet, falling in love with a boy her mother doesn't approve of, but finding her happily ever after against all odds. Before I know it, it's 12:30 am, and I've finished the book. Once I put the book down, I realize just how tired I am. I put the wine glass in the sink and head upstairs to bed. A little fuzzy from the wine, my brain drifts off to sleep with images of black nail polish and serving trays.