Bow Necklace On Sonny With A Chance Inquiry.

Concerning my journal, aniccata writes:

The wind blew the door back on its hinges as she entered the book store, making her pull it closed behind her. She pushed her glasses up with a long finger, the nail bitten short and ragged, and with her other hand unzipped her corduroy jacket. She grabbed a copy of French Vogue from the magazine rack and sat at a little table by the window.

Of course he had been watching her since the second she opened the door, absently shifting his pencil from hand to hand and scrawling words into his notebook. As she took off her jacket and hung it on the chair, he gazed at her neck just where it met the green sweater that was almost a little too small, exposing her slender, pale wrists. He took a sip of his coffee, already turning cold, and sighed. Why must it always be so difficult for him?

She seemed bored with Vogue, or so he thought, and he considered himself the savior of young beautiful bored girls in book stores. He cleared his throat and stood, slowly moving toward her table. She looked at her thick, utilitarian silver watch, glanced out the window and then turned a page. When she looked up, he was standing next to her.

\h and the gum stuck to the bottom of historical shoe, how Would she smile and tilt her head to the left as she listened thoughtfully, how she Would Reach out a hand to adjust historical necklace, how historical Would accidentally touch her foot under the leg table and She Would not move away. Already Had I imagined her going home with him to historical drafty apartment with mismatched furniture, where 'Would she take off her brown shoes inside the front door, Revealing striped socks match That Did What She Was Wearing. Already Had I imagined how she Would peek inside the book I Kept next to His bed while I WAS getting a glass of water from the kitchen, how Would she want to read more But Would put the book back as she Suddenly Heard in the historical footsteps hallway.

Imagining He is so busy and I's notxactly sure how he came to be sitting next to her at the table. She talks and laughs, her delicate hands animated like birds, playing with her earring and touching the magazine from time to time. He does most of the talking, though. He tells her of traveling to the ocean, of staying in a hotel where the beach ran up to his door and the palm trees cast shadows intended only for his benefit, about finding abandoned sand castles along the shore and picking up a tiny shell shaped like a carrot that he carried in his pocket for days, about feeling the sand between his toes and hearing the voices of children in the distance. He talked about reading The Seducer's Diary as he sat in a chair, the bright sun warming him as he turned the pages, and he said, smiling, \



aniccata


,

Thank you for restoring my faith in the preciseness of human intuition.

Love,

A book store predator.