This Place of Wonder

by Barbara O'Neal

Bookstores can solve any problem, at least for a little while. It was humid and too warm inside, the lights bright against the gray day, and it all smelled of paper and glue and dust and humans and damp wool and coffee brewing somewhere. Only this place of wonders could soothe me.

Rory links her arm through mine. “Sorry about that.” I’m not alone, I think. Rory will always be in my corner.

Walk. One foot and then the next. Air moves over my face, my neck. I breathe it in a few times, filling my lungs to remember that being alive is not to be underrated, and then . . . I just walk. I don’t bring podcasts or music with me. I want to hear whatever the earth has to tell me.

books are always a source of comfort. Bookstore, library, even a bookmobile, I’m happy.

I can’t bring myself to eat something that’s smart enough to free itself from an aquarium,