The Universe's Mixer

The storm had been ungentle with Bookmark Books -- a broken window, leaves in the display cases, water soaking the carpets rolled up against the storefront -- but it could have been far worse. Beauty stayed with the store all through the first night, all through the second, and into the first morning, surviving on the coffee and biscuits that she kept in the store. But far more important to her survival, she felt, was the survival of the books that she tended. The girl took her responsibilities seriously, and she had no intention of looking at her manager and weakly explaining that the books in the first half of the store were destroyed due to flooding. No, that was exactly what she would not do.

As the last of the handy men finished pulling out the carpet and hauling off the ruined bookshelves, Beauty surveyed the stacks upon stacks of books in the far back corners of the store. It had taken quite a lot of effort and she was exhausted -- but the books were safe. After she signed what her manager had told her was a "company check" and handing the slip of paper over to the workers, she drew the closest lounge chair out from behind the intact shelves and flopped ungracefully into the cushy brown center. She'd spent so many hours in this chair, reading and dreaming and reading. Now, all she wanted to do was sit for a few minutes. She felt guilty about it (she really should be working), but she was so, so tired.

But rest wasn't in her future. As she closed her eyes, the tiny, bedraggled bell still clinging to the inner door handle gave out its chiming warning. Another worker? Or perhaps a customer? She rolled herself out of the chair, hit the floor with one knee and one foot, then finally stood. Straightening the clingy petal-pink dress that her silent servants forced herself to wear today, she pushed back her hair from her face, took a breath, and put her best foot forward.