He looked at the end of the corridor that opened between the shelves to verify that old Tony was still leaning back in his chair behind the counter. With a book between his legs and his glasses about to fall off the edge of his nose, he had already taken the small leap that turns paper stories into dream movies.
pexels / Vlad Chetan
Old Tony was one of those men who, when widowed, become gruff and introverted. Everyone said that his wife was a saint and that her sudden death had destroyed her husband's life. The gossip associated him with backroom business and drunkenness; others said that he was simply crazy and his fame left his bookstore with almost no customers. But the truth is that he was simply a lonely old man, who had found company in books and gin.
He had to hurry. He didn't have much time. At any moment, the postman with his noisy motorcycle or Mary's dog could come by and wake up old Tony from his adventures in France, Spain or Colombia. It wasn't the first time he had done it, but he had the impression that sooner or later his entire plan would be discovered.
He saw himself as some kind of Soviet spy or a ninja or one of those couriers who carried a safe-conduct across borders to secure secret government documents.
But the truth is that he was a boy who lived in a small town, without many children his age, in which the summer days became longer and more unbearable. His parents bought him a bike, hoping it would be enough to keep him distracted. He used to go up to the old oil mill in the afternoons to play castle defense and read old Tony's books. Until one day, playing among the presses, he fell and cut himself on one of the bottles which the boys of the town had left the previous weekend. Although the wound did not require more than a couple of stitches, his parents forbade him from going up to the mill ever since, and since the new highway cut off the path to the swamp, he ended up leaving his bike in the garage.
He stared at the bookcase in front of him, reached for the top shelf, but he hadn't grown enough to reach it yet. So he settled for what he had at hand and chose three: one by Dickens, another called 'Uninhabited Paradise' and the third one of poems.
He looked back down the corridor and, after verifying that everything was still in order, he lifted up his shirt and, like armor, he placed the three books on his belly. He shuddered slightly from the cold contact of the tops and tucked the T-shirt into his shorts so they would be more secure. He crossed his arms to camouflage his loot and began to walk slowly towards the end of the hall.
With unsteady steps he reached the counter, where old Tony continued a dreamily conversation with Hemingway, Capote and Chesterton. He was a couple of steps away from the door and already felt like the most valuable agent of the British secret services when, suddenly, the figure of Lucy appeared before him.
Lucy was one of those city girls who lived in the new development they had built next to town. He saw her for the first time one Sunday in church, and when he turned to give her peace, she looked up at the ceiling, as if she were seeing a vision, and did not take her away until he, humiliated, turned away. On another day, they coincided in one of the festivals that they organized for the patron saint festivities. He was sitting watching the adults dance to the new songs of that summer. Feeling observed, he turned his head to the left and, a few steps away, there she was, playing with her mobile and trying to hide the fact that she had been discovered.
Although he had tried to be friendly on several occasions, she hadn't shown the slightest interest. So seeing her standing there, looking him up and down and sensing his intentions, made him panic. Startled, he separated his hands from his belly and the books slid down his shorts until they hit the wooden floor.
Old Tony's eyes snapped open and he looked around for the source of the noise. He looked at the boy, then at the girl, and finally at the books on the floor.
"Mr. Tony, I… «- he tried to say.
–«Shut up! I know what you were doing and I know what you do every time you show up here. I'm old, but I'm not stupid."
He looked down, admitting his guilt, and began to think about what punishment his parents would inflict on him when they found out. He searched out of the corner of his eye for a triumphant smile on her, but only found an expression of fear, while she said nervously:
"It wasn't his fault, I told him to do it.."
The boy did not come out of his astonishment, but he remained silent, waiting for the outcome of the situation.
"Are you going to lie for this rascal? I'll tell you one thing: never question your honor for defending another person, because even those who claim to be your friends will one day leave you aside.
The two children looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders, not quite understanding what he meant by it. Old Tony pointed to the books and waved for the boy to pick them up and bring them to him. He obeyed immediately and approached slowly, fearful of the possibility of receiving a smack as a reward.
Instead, old Tony adjusted his glasses and began to inspect the books.
"Let's check what you got this time..." and nodding with a grunt, he returned the books to the boy.
"When you finish reading them, put the books on this table, you never leave them in the right place. And now get out of here»- and ending the matter, old Tony escorted him with his eyes towards the street, until he met the gaze of Lucy, who was still motionless by the door.
"I… I just wanted a book for grandma," she said.
His heart was still pounding as he left the bookstore, while in his head he tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. He inadvertently tripped over a bicycle that was lying on the ground. Seeing that he had a doll hanging from the handlebars, he sensed that it belonged to Lucy. The estate wasn't far, maybe a couple of miles from town, a comfortable distance to cycle.
"Besides stealing books, you also steal bikes?" Lucy suddenly said behind him.
The weeks of that summer went by and every time he returned to old Tony's bookstore and left the books he had borrowed on the table, he found a new little stack that the old bookseller had prepared for him.
Posted using PALnet
Congratulations @pal.alfa! You have completed the following achievement on the Hive blockchain And have been rewarded with New badge(s)
Your next target is to reach 100 upvotes.
You can view your badges on your board and compare yourself to others in the Ranking
If you no longer want to receive notifications, reply to this comment with the word
STOPCheck out our last posts:
Support the HiveBuzz project. Vote for our proposal!
Done!!!
Thank you for your support @pal.alfa, much appreciated!
Source of potential text plagiarism
Direct translation without giving credit to the original author is Plagiarism. Repeated plagiarism is considered fraud. Fraud is discouraged by the community and may result in the account being Blacklisted.
Guide: Why and How People Abuse and Plagiarise
Please note that direct translations including attribution or source with no original content are considered spam.
If you believe this comment is in error, please contact us in #appeals in Discord.