Safe and Sound

one - taylor

The bell above the door chimed softly as I set down the last of the new books on a worn out wooden table near the window. I glanced up, watching as an older lady wondered inside. She gave me a polite smile, and went straight for the Historical Fiction wall - she seemed to know what she was looking for, so I decided to leave her alone. 

I glanced around my little bookstore, at the rows of mismatched shelves filled with well-loved novels and old leather chairs that sat scattered around the store. It wasn't much, but it was mine.

Kind of the vibes:

The shop wasn't exactly thriving - if anything, it was struggling to stay afloat - but it was enough to scrape by. Most days I just sat behind the counter, a new book in my hand, hoping to have a few more customers before the end of the day. Living on the outskirts of town, it didn't get very busy, but that was okay, I'd gotten used to the solitude.

Meandering around the store, my fingers ran across the spines of books, straightening them out absentmindedly as I passed. I slowed when I reached my favourite section, romance. It was tucked away in a cozy corner, full of my favourite stories - ones that took me straight into other worlds, sweeping me off my imaginary feet. I paused, pulling out one of my favourites that I'd read a thousand times. A smile tugged at my lips as I flipped through the pages, debating re-reading it.

I loved reading romance, I always had. Something about watching how two characters always found each other, no matter the odds, filled me with so much hope. I couldn't help the pang of sadness that washed over me as I gently placed the book back on the shelf. Like I said, I loved reading romance, but recently, reading them had felt more like a punch in the gut than anything else. I couldn't help but let my mind drift to my own romance, my love story. Mine hadn't seemed to flip past page one in about two years.

My last relationship - Joe - had ended when he told me I was boring, and wasn't 'spontaneous' enough for him. The words still stung. He'd said it so casually, after 3 years together, suddenly I was too boring. It wasn't like I hadn't tried to be fun, to be spontaneous, but nothing I did ever seemed to be enough for him.

Looking back, I realised he had never even tried to bring out the fun in me. He never scratched the surface of me. He had been content with surface-level affection, never once wanting to delve into the depths of who I was or what I truly wanted.

He never once looked at me the way I hoped a man would - like I was the most important thing in the world. I'd come to realise it really wasn't the worst day of my life when he left me. But, if I had to choose between him or nothing - I'd choose him. At least then I'd be able to feel something.

Sighing, I made my way back to the front counter, and made myself busy looking through lists of new books due to come in tomorrow. Whenever I got like this, I tried not to let myself wallow in sadness for too long. It wasn't worth it. If I've learnt anything from books - it's that love will show up when I least expect it, and if it doesn't, I have my cats.

A moment later the bell chimed again, and Susan walked in, her oversized purse clung to her side as usual.

"Hi sweetheart," She smiled her usual smile, "How was your day?"

"Slow, but good." I replied, and we quickly found ourselves in a brief conversation, before I handed her a book I thought she'd like. She was one of my regulars, and came in every few days wanting a new recommendation. She paid with a grateful smile, then left, the bell jingling as the door closed behind her.

I sank back into my chair behind the counter, the quiet hum of the stores fans filling the silence. This was my life - small, quiet, just... existing. And while I'd chosen it, some days felt a lot more isolating than others. And it's not like I didn't have friends or anything, I did. I had my best friend Abigail, but she had her own family, her husband, two kids. Understandably, they'd become her priority. As for my family, I didn't really have any. My parents split when I was 13, and I hadn't seen my dad or brother since. I stayed close with my mom for a while, but after she remarried, she stopped answering my calls, and we drifted. We spoke every now and then, but nothing more than the bare minimum.

As the afternoon came and went, the sky outside darkened, and soft rain began to patter against the windows. I smiled to myself, leaning back in my chair and taking a deep breath. I loved the rain, it was perfect reading weather.

The rain picked up by the time I closed and locked up the store just after 5. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and hurried to my little car, the one I'd had since college. The drive home was short, the roads slick with rain. Soon enough, I was pulling into the driveway of my small home. It wasn't much, a two bedroom, cottage-like place, overgrown with greenery. But I made it my own - and I loved it.

Taylor's Home:

Benji and Olivia both greeted me as I walked in the door, weaving between my legs and purring softly. Meredith was unfazed by my coming home, still lying comfortably in her throne - an armchair.

I slipped off my coat and shoes, and went straight into the kitchen to start on dinner. I didn't make anything too fancy, just pasta with homemade sauce. I set the table for one, and sat with my bowl, eating in a comfortable silence as the rain pattered against the roof. This was my routine; work, come home, eat alone, then curl up with a book before bed. It was simple, comfortable, and predictable. I didn't mind it.

When I finished eating, I washed up my dishes, and leaned against the counter, letting out a soft sigh. Today was my 28th birthday, not that anyone would've known. I hadn't received a single text or phone call, but honestly, I hadn't expected too. People were busy with their own lives. I wasn't the type of person to make a fuss about these things.

Still, I'd spent the early morning making a small batch of birthday cupcakes, a little tradition I kept up every year. It was bittersweet, since I didn't actually have anyone to share them with. They were only simple, vanilla with some white frosting and sprinkles - but they were my little birthday treat, even if I was the only one celebrating.

I walked to the fridge, and took one cupcake out, placing it on a small plate on the counter. It looked so cute and festive. I smiled, and grabbed a little candle from the drawer near the sink, then stuck it right in the centre. I lit a small match, holding it to the wick until the candle lit up.

"Happy birthday, Taylor." I whispered, and blew out the candle, making my wish.