quartz street ➢ brad simpson [au]

six

// monday //

Books wouldn't be as interesting when he was around.

Seeing him was enough to keep me on my toes.

In the book shop, it was rare to not have any couple go inside, in a day. There would always, always be one.

I guess that's how silence works well in relationships; everyone needed it once in a while.

There was one couple, who looked around sixteen or seventeen, who would probably spend an hour in the store, hiding their faces behind a book to kiss, from time to time. They would never buy anything, afterwards, only sending me a small, embarrassed smile before leaving.

It wasn't the best sight to see, but it's probably the height of their relationship, where they like each other so much, that they couldn't get their hands off of each other.

There was another couple, both girls, a few years older, I suppose, who would spend their time talking about the books they'll see in whatever shelf they happened to pass by. They were refreshing to watch, especially when they started to recite lines from a book to each other. 

A middle-aged woman would enter the shop, exactly at ten o'clock on Wednesdays, and five minutes later, a middle-aged man would come, with a red rose as an apology. I was convinced he was doing that on purpose, but I've only witnessed it twice, that I can't be so sure.

A little bit after my break, an old couple would go inside the store, heading towards the shelf with classic books. They'd reminisce on how they've read this together before, and well, the youth of their relationship was still there.

Even though I wasn't much of a fan of romance, in general, I still admired how the store I worked at managed to draw people in like this.

But as I watched the boy sitting across the street, drinking a cup of coffee, I wondered if it were possible to be drawn to someone outside the book shop.