|Ava Wright (avagardener) wrote in yegods,|
@ 2012-03-19 20:16:00
|Entry tags:||!log, avani wright, richard palmer|
WHO Rick Palmer and Ava Wright
WHERE Alexandria Bookstore, Catacombs
WHEN March 19th, afternoon
SUMMARY Regular patronage
Alexandria Bookstore in the Catacombs was a not particularly creatively named store tucked in between a falafel house and what appeared to be a pet store that sold mainly fish, but was indeed just another restaurant for an entirely different sort of being. The front of the bookstore had two large windows on either side of a wooden door, with each window holding a display of different old, worn leather books in a variety of languages, and a series of drawing of birds created by the owner’s four-year-old daughter Harriet, who liked peacocks. All movement in and out of the store was signaled by a sleighbell situated at the top of the door, which normally caused Ava’s head to come up and look, as she was usually the one seated at the somewhat Scrooge-ish desk and stool by the front. All customers passed her, all money went through her, and she could answer most inquires pertaining to the bookstore. If she could not find it, the scruffy young man in charge of shelving materials probably could. Emmett Franklin, the store’s owner, had an office in the back, but could often be seen moving about on the other side of closed shades, or heard talking to one or another of his five children on the phone.
Today Ava was working in the afternoon, sitting at her old Victorian desk and stool with a large, surprisingly new and colorful book sitting open in front of her and an orange highlighter in her hand. The orange highlighter was just for things she found in the book relating to school assignments. The yellow highlighter, which sat nearby, was for things she thought might be useful in the future. The Pink highlighter, slightly farther off, was for things she just thought were cool. A green highlighter was for words she did not know, or concepts she did not understand. That highlighter sat farthest from her book and was seldom used.
The sleighbell over the door tinkled in a way that still always made Ava think of Christmas, and she smiled warmly and placed the bookmark in her book and closed it, revealing it to have some ghastly title like ‘Integrated Marketing Communication.’
“Hello Mr Palmer,” she said, never entirely sure if she should address him by his rank instead. She was clearly not police (her clothes were too flattering) so she figured she could forgo his rank for now. “Emmett is in his office so it’s safe to come in. How may I assist you today?”