It was the solitude that bothered him these days. The kind that settled into the crevices, became ostentatiously present and made him jump and his skin itch all over. He felt it now as he turned on the shower, its metal voice shaking awake the silence of the bathroom. The heat was on, but he was shivering - the spray of water vapor had collected on the hairs of his skin, so that even in this stagnant air, he felt a breeze that was cold.
Slipping his hand into the gradually warming water, he distrupted its rhythm into embarrassing splatters as it hit the bathtub floor. The first step under the faucet plunged his naked body into the stream of water and woke him instantly. It wasn't so much the change in temperature or the water beating against his back that woke him, but rather the sensation at the back of his mind as he braced mentally before plunging. It shocked his vitality out of its stupor.
From there, his usual morning routine continued, well-orchestrated and efficient in its familiarity: a slice of bread into the toaster before brushing his teeth, the toaster's cheerful ping just as he finished rinsing; slipping his shoes on to the 7:40am weather report, umbrella next to the door as needed; two swipes of butter on his bread, and a gulp of coffee that he had sleepily put to drip upon first waking.
Downstairs, the shop was quiet, undistruped from the previous night's closing. Still, it looked strange in the morning light. He felt like he was seeing it for the first time. It was dark out, so he turned on the lights in the entrance and the main room. The synthetic glow of a light bulb illuminated the posters on the wall with various epigrams meant to entice children to books, like "Fall for Books!" which showed a smiling child splashing noiselessly into a pile of colorful leaves.
With the register and the front displays tied, he felt better. It was strange how this simple routine set his mind at peace. By then it was bright outside and inside the bookshop. People were beginning to pass by the front door, men and women with briefcases in dark suits, on their way to work in the high towers of the city, to the same grey cubicles all around the city. These cubicles, windowless compartments, had consumed the soul of more than one unknowing employee. A lucky few had window views through which they could have seen the entire beautiful confusion of a modern metropolis below their feet, had they chosen to glance away from the files of the
Slipping his hand into the gradually warming water, he distrupted its rhythm into embarrassing splatters as it hit the bathtub floor. The first step under the faucet plunged his naked body into the stream of water and woke him instantly. It wasn't so much the change in temperature or the water beating against his back that woke him, but rather the sensation at the back of his mind as he braced mentally before plunging. It shocked his vitality out of its stupor.
From there, his usual morning routine continued, well-orchestrated and efficient in its familiarity: a slice of bread into the toaster before brushing his teeth, the toaster's cheerful ping just as he finished rinsing; slipping his shoes on to the 7:40am weather report, umbrella next to the door as needed; two swipes of butter on his bread, and a gulp of coffee that he had sleepily put to drip upon first waking.
Downstairs, the shop was quiet, undistruped from the previous night's closing. Still, it looked strange in the morning light. He felt like he was seeing it for the first time. It was dark out, so he turned on the lights in the entrance and the main room. The synthetic glow of a light bulb illuminated the posters on the wall with various epigrams meant to entice children to books, like "Fall for Books!" which showed a smiling child splashing noiselessly into a pile of colorful leaves.
With the register and the front displays tied, he felt better. It was strange how this simple routine set his mind at peace. By then it was bright outside and inside the bookshop. People were beginning to pass by the front door, men and women with briefcases in dark suits, on their way to work in the high towers of the city, to the same grey cubicles all around the city. These cubicles, windowless compartments, had consumed the soul of more than one unknowing employee. A lucky few had window views through which they could have seen the entire beautiful confusion of a modern metropolis below their feet, had they chosen to glance away from the files of the
