Unforeseen

Chapter XIII

I didn't see Mr. Gabriele Giuliano in the days after reading the letter, not in the restaurant, nor passingoutside of its windows. I was sure after he had given me that day or two to "further calm down" as he had so politely put it, that he would've stopped in by now. But it was coming close to a week and still nothing, no sign of him anywhere, how strange. 

On Friday, Giorgia was kind enough to let me leave work before closing time. She knew I had my heart set on getting to a tiny unknown bookstore around the corner before they closed up shop for the day. I had worn all the literature in my apartmentout with my late-night reading. I made it to their door in decent time despite the traffic of people and cars blocking every aspect of the way.

"The Page Turner" could barely be made out above the doorway, no doubt the name of this seemingly forgotten bookstore. With more and more things to do with each passing day, it was no surprise this once booming place was beginning to be drowned out. Sadly, its exterior walls desperately needed a good scrubbing and a new paint job to make it look the part, but not only that, the sign that once told eager guests of its clever name also required some attention. The paper was torn in some places, the lettering was old, and worn, making the name almost unrecognizable. The frame that held all this together was either broken orrotting in most places. It was obvious that the years and the weather had not been kind to it. It demanded a good look out front if it wanted to continue to be around and go a long way for hopefully years to come.

After acknowledging the desperate needs of the outside, I decided to take a look inside. I found the door handle too was aged as I tried to push my way in. The tongue of the handle seemed to be permanently stuck down even after releasing it for a minute or two. Before long I began to wonder if the place had closed early. The sign on the door however told me a different story. Grabbing the handle once more I decided to lean my body against it, applying the full pressure of my weight, hoping that with this and any luck a good push would give me just what I was looking for.

After a few attempts at thrusting hard at the door, it finally gave way and came flying open. To my dismay all my applied force had me thrown to the ground upon entry, along with the impact of an object hitting the top of my head and bouncing off, making loud ringing noises as it hit both myself andthe floor. Coughing at the dust that had sprung up in my face I slowly came to a stand, knocking the dirt off myself as I did.

"Graceful, are we?" an old man's voice croaked from the dark, "that door or bell hasn't seen that much action in ages, probably since the place damn near opened to be specific." 

Glancing around I saw no one at first until small lights began to come on throughout the store, bringing it to life. Rather sluggishly, an old man approached from behind a large counter set to the left, almost completely against the wall.

"Here I was about to close up shop when I thought I heard some ruckus at the door!" the old man said.

"I...I'm...sorry," I said to him, stuttering sheepishly.

"Oh, that's quite alright dear, how can I help you?" the man asked. 

"I have been wanting to stop in and visit the place. I am in need of some books you see, the ones I have I've read and reread about a thousand times,and I've finally reached the point where I am ready for some new ones." 

"We don't do trades or exchanges here if that's the next question you're going to ask me!" 

The old man's outburst made me so nervous that I felt the need to explain to him what my intentions actually were. "No, I wasn't thinking that at all. I want to keep the books I have; I just would like to add to my collection with some new ones." 

The old man eyed me suspiciously for a moment or so before saying, "Alright then but you'll have to come back tomorrow because it's closing time, and I need to get home to my wife. She's been feeling under the weather lately, and I've been stuck taking care of her." 

"Oh...I'm very sorry to hear that, and okay I'll be back tomorrow then," I said while turning to face the door. "I...I'm sorry are you the owner?" 

"Yes, I am little miss, what's it to you?" 

"No...no reason at all I just wanted to introduce myself right quick because I'll probably be stopping in often since this bookstore is so close. I'mAbriana," I said with an extended hand.

"Pleased to meet you Abriana, I'm Benson and this dusty, run-down establishment we are standing in is The Page Turner. Now if we are through with all the introductions I need to be on my way." The sarcasm in his voice was evident. And by his facial expressions, I could easily read that he was minorly annoyed with me. So as swiftly as I had entered was the speed at which I retreated. 

Pausing I asked, "Benson, what time will you be open tomorrow?"

Grumbling, he said, "Not until eight o'clock." 

"Fantastic I'm off work tomorrow so I shall be here almost as soon as you open!" 

"I can hardly wait," he said unenthusiastically, "you do know these books aren't going anywhere, they'll be here no matter what time you come,continuing to collect dust and hate their miserable lives." 

"I'll be here a little after eight...Goodnight," I said with kind eyes before heading out the door.