TheIndigoSultan
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2006
- Posts
- 113
IC: The morning sun started to slide through the wavy glass of the bookshop windows. It feel unevenly on old volumes of Dickens and Shakespeare. It started to climb up the rack of Harlequin Romances, two for three dollars. It slipped down the dark aisles, past Browning and Cummings and onto Poe. The ancient oak panelled walls and floors tried to shine, to soak up some of the light, but they had been sanded and re-done one to many times. They just managed a waxy glint.
An angular man in is late fourties moved down the gray carpetted liners between the multi-colored stacks, pushing a tiny silent sweeper. With the manuel sweeper and old books and wood, it was almost a screne out of the Victorian world. His outfit broke the illusion though. His long, lanky frame was covered with dark gray slacks, a blue button-up short sleeved shirt and a black sweater vest. His face was handsome, in a high cheek-boned, deep shadows sort of way. His hair was wavy and shoulder length, but was going gray at the temples and his widow's peeks were pronounced. Tiny half moon glasses perched at the end of his long nose, giving him the appearance of an older man. His fingers were long and slender, like a pianist, with fine blue veins that would someday turn to the wrinkled, heavily lined hands of his father.
He smiled at the sun, glad of her presence. She was always a welcomed guest in the mornings. The smell of strong, Columbian coffee was welcome as well. It moved through the stacks like rumors of the visit of a favorite uncle- the one that made you feel most alive and loved.
The silver bell above the door dinged....
OCC: This wasn't getting response here, so it has been moved to another site.
An angular man in is late fourties moved down the gray carpetted liners between the multi-colored stacks, pushing a tiny silent sweeper. With the manuel sweeper and old books and wood, it was almost a screne out of the Victorian world. His outfit broke the illusion though. His long, lanky frame was covered with dark gray slacks, a blue button-up short sleeved shirt and a black sweater vest. His face was handsome, in a high cheek-boned, deep shadows sort of way. His hair was wavy and shoulder length, but was going gray at the temples and his widow's peeks were pronounced. Tiny half moon glasses perched at the end of his long nose, giving him the appearance of an older man. His fingers were long and slender, like a pianist, with fine blue veins that would someday turn to the wrinkled, heavily lined hands of his father.
He smiled at the sun, glad of her presence. She was always a welcomed guest in the mornings. The smell of strong, Columbian coffee was welcome as well. It moved through the stacks like rumors of the visit of a favorite uncle- the one that made you feel most alive and loved.
The silver bell above the door dinged....
OCC: This wasn't getting response here, so it has been moved to another site.
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