I hold a hardback copy of “The Bookshop: A History Of The American Bookstore,” by Evan Friss. The cover is a front window of the quintessential indie bookstore with an emerald green front and trim, glowing lamps illuminating stacks, shelves, and stands of books. The author and title are written as though stenciled onto the from window we are looking into. I hold the book in my left hand over my lap to lessen the glare. Dark navy blue jeans peek below and a bit of my beige waffle shirt and a beige linen tablecloth sort of frame the warm green tones of the book. To the right of the book, my tiniest roommate, Winnie the Bichpoo, has stretched to her fullest height which is around my knee and peeks around the side to look up at me in quiet concentration… willing me to find and throw her beloved ball. She is an equally beige fluff to the tablecloth and my shirt with dark little button eyes and a deep brown button nose.
Stepping away from the current novel into this cozy read about the most dreamy bookshops. This is my preferred fantasy genre. 😂
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