Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
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 from 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 at 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.
Maybe it wasn’t a gasp. Maybe it was an echoed whisper from another person in the library, traveling along the shelves until it got to me.
But I can’t stop picturing me and Finley from that distance, as if I was also leaning over the table, holding my breath as I watched.
We were so close together.
If I’d stumbled or leaned, I’d have leaned right into him.
I picture Finley’s face as he held his breath. That’s when he must’ve started blushing, because his cheeks were pink when our hands touched. I swear they were. And the memory stirs a warmth within me.
And there’s me, staring up at him in awe. In my memory, the energy between us was palpable. A force pulling us together. I can still feel it now. I close my eyes relishing it.
From this mysterious viewpoint, it seems that way, too. I’m leaning into it, starting to lift my heels from the floor, and Finley exhales and leans toward me, and then—
A shiver rushes across my shoulders. It’s closer to a cold breath than a gust of wind, but my skin prickles all over my body, and I leap up from the cushion.
“There was something there,” I say to my apartment. The white mushroom lamp on my side table turns on, startling me, but it’s fine—I have it on a timer, so it’ll be on when I get home. I’m only here early tonight because Finley touched me. And then he invited me to look at the library’s collection of rare books and records.