Burn the light

Chapter 2

I have decided not to do anything stressful this week. Meaning not to look for jobs.

I received three negative answers last friday and it just made me feel awful.

I could not sleep that night.

It's been a few days that I don't sleep well, anxiety is at its peak.

Why does life have to be so difficult?

It makes me wish I was still a student. At least I did not have to worry about how to pay rent since the scholarship took care of it.

Thankfully I did save a bit of money and have a couple of thousands pounds in my bank account. But the money decreases every month since I have no job and have to pay for rent, food and books.

I make my way into the bookshop. I love how dark it is. The only light comes from the window and England is not known to be particularly sunny, especially not in autumn.

I like how this bookstore does not look modern. It makes me feel like generations have passed through this place to read books.

The walls must have been yellow at one point but now they are a mix between a mustard yellow and beige. The bookshelves are higher than a man's height. There are two columns full of bookshelves. I make my way to the right and continue walking until I reach a few tables.

The bookshop is more crowded than usual but thankfully the tables are empty.

I sit at one of the tables and take out the book from my bag as well as a pen and book tabs. I intend to finish reading the book I picked three weeks ago. I feel like I have to force myself to finish it otherwise I won't.

I am afraid of ending things. I am scared to not have cherished them enough.

If I finish a book quickly I would feel sad to not have held onto the feelings more. Especially when my life feels like a mess and the emotions I feel in real life are not joyful.

I have less than a hundred pages left to read.

The whispers and the sights of people in the corner of my eyes start to disappear as I start to read, tabbing my favorite quotes.

"You will never be able to escape from your heart. So it's better to listen to what it has to say. That way, you'll never have to fear an unexpected blow."

"When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better, too."

"I only invoked what you already knew."

That was.. insightful. Or it could have been. I know that my soul wanted me to realize something but I don't know what. The feeling does not go away as I close the book.

I return to my surroundings. I do not know what time it is and for how long I have been reading.

Time does really feel like it's stopping when you start reading.

I look around me while yawning. It might have been longer than I thought.

I stare at people near the bookshelves, curious at what books they are going to choose.

From what I have learned from going to libraries since my younger age is to never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.

I try to guess what book the tall man dressed in black is holding in his hands.

I frown, not understanding what my brain wants to tell me. Until the fog dissipates. I recognise him. He is the man who let me get The Alchemist.

I stand a little bit too quickly. The chair emits a screeching noise and I flinch, closing my eyes, disturbed by the sound it made.

Never make a lot of noise in a place filled with books.

That is the number one rule.

I make my way soundlessly toward him with my book in my hand.

"Hello." I say softly, letting a few steps between us to not recreate the last embarrassing moment.

He looks briefly at me before looking back on the book he is holding.

Rude.

"I finished reading the book. You can have it." I continue.

"Who are you?"

I snort, stunned. I am torn between laughing or crying.

I will probably cry later in my bedroom while having an existential crisis and evaluate my purpose as a human being.

Should I just leave? I inhale trying to be brave to carry on the conversation. If we can call that a conversation.

If only he was as nice as he looks.

Why are the meanest people always the good-looking ones ?

"We met a few weeks ago and we wanted the same book which is this one." I explain, showing him the book in question.

He finally looks up at me, making me feel a little bit more comfortable. At least at first. I forgot how his gaze made me feel. Vulnerable.

But at least it feels a little bit more like a discussion and not a monologue.

"I finished reading it. You can have it." I extend my hand so he can take the book.

Well, nevermind, it is really a monologue.

"Please, I insist." I say, using the words he used.

His lip curls up a little before his face is set to stone. Must have been my imagination.

He looks as welcoming as my Calculus professor, first year of university. He was a man in his thirties who hated us more than his wife. They were going through a divorce and she apparently wanted to keep the dog. He seemed quite mad about it even though he said that the dog would feel more at home with her.

I do not know which is worse. Someone who makes it clear to you that they hate you or someone who makes you feel less than nothing with just a look ?

In that case, I would take the one who hated us because at least we all knew he had serious anger management problems. Shouldn't people in their thirties already figure out how to control their emotions?

"Don't you want to keep it?" He asks me.

I must look like an idiot right now staring at him as if I have just seen a ghost.

Maybe he just had a bad day and understood that being mean won't make it better. I am still a little hurt.

"I don't like to reread books."

"Why ?"

"I already know the story. I already know how it ends. Why would I go through it again ?"

"You can understand more the second time than you did the first time."

"Depends on the genre. But it would feel forced."

"How so?"

"Something I was meant to understand would pull at my heartstrings. Otherwise, I am just trying to convince myself of something else."

He nods but I can not say what he thinks. He is not an open book. I can't read him.

I place the book on the bookshelf near him.

"Anyway, have a good day." I say before leaving.