Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Hazel
Not a darn thing productive gets done for the rest of the evening. My research is stagnant as my thoughts are concerned with something else. Or rather, someone else.
How am I supposed to think when I just had an encounter like that with Finley? He’s never stood close enough to touch before. He’s never come to the back of the library by the local history section when I’m back there.
Our fingers have never touched before.
The touch still lingers.
And the way he looked at me, up and down, his eyes going dark… It was just the two of us. The tension cracked and I swear there was something there. He must feel what I feel. I know it to be so.
The way he held his breath, like he wanted to touch me but couldn’t bring himself to do it…
I leave the library well before closing and skirt the outside of the stacks. If I see him again, I’ll say something awkward, and I just don’t want the spell to break. It was too real. Too obvious.
It occurs to me on the walk home that a spell might be exactly what’s needed. My lips twitch up with hope, a spell will do nicely.
It’s a blustery night, cool and clear, and as I take in the fresh air, I can’t help but notice the energy all around me. It’s electric and powerful. The moon is the smallest sliver of a crescent. So close to the new moon.
It’s impossible to think about anything else when I can still feel the place where Finley’s fingers touched mine. It’s like I’ve veered off the path I was on and onto an unfamiliar one.
My apartment couldn’t be more familiar. More like a refuge for my racing thoughts. I live in a cute two-story apartment building with eight units. Mine is the one closest to the trees on the opposite side of the lot, which means it’s also closest to the river that runs through the woods. The backyard is nothing but trees and a few potted plants on my concrete patio. That’s a good thing in terms of energy. I like to picture the river taking away any stress or confusion I feel and replenishing the earth around it as it goes.
But a river could also carry a spell away. Delivering faster than I could on my own.
This is all I need in an apartment. I do most of my research and admin tasks for the shop from my velvet mustard yellow couch, and I’ve never needed more than one bedroom. It’s a cozy place for a single person.
Tonight, I can’t help but notice just how cozy it is. Another person couldn’t live here. Well—they could, but we’d be on top of each other, and probably sick of each other within a week.
For the first time, it occurs to me that this apartment might not be enough for the rest of my life. How am I to envision Finley on my sofa, with the colorful patterned rug beneath the wooden coffee table made of a single slab of raw wood and iron stand beneath. Surely he’ll need a leather chaise across my sofa. The thought stops me in my tracks. Oh, I can see him here.
When I moved back, I thought I’d keep the apartment for six months and look for a house during that time, but nothing ever called to me. There wasn’t any reason to get a bigger house when the shop’s inventory could stay in the house and there was no one else to share the space with. I added my modern art prints covering most of the walls with splashes of color in antique frames. I think cozy eclectic would describe the small place. As I step back I try to imagine a leather chaise and it simply wouldn’t fit.
Perhaps it is time to move. When you have a desire, you must make room for it in your life. Show the universe that you are ready.
I take off my coat and hang up my bag, looking into my place with fresh eyes. It’s neat and clean with tidy secondhand furniture, most of which I got from estate sales. I’ve made it into a home, but it’s a home that’s starting to look like it could be packed up any second.
I’m getting way ahead of myself. Time to take a step back and sit on a cushion I keep near my balcony window. It’s too cold to crack the window but I can just barely hear the soothing breeze.
I replay everything that happened in the library, with an intent on simply observing.
For some reason, I keep imagining it from the far corner of the aisle, behind my table. That’s where that sound came from, didn’t it? I’d swear on my life I heard a gasp.