Friends of the Library Book Sale

I drag myself to these affairs frequently, likely attending eighty percent in a year. It is a quaint experience of acute claustrophobia punctuated with the bliss of discovering a desired book. It is a familiar group which attends these matters, most are visually familiar with one another. My friends Roger and Frank are often visible. It cab be nice but it often appears to be a controlled explosion. Such were the circumstances Saturday when I edged in, exchanged smiles with Roger and then turning ninety degrees saw upon a lower shelf, a paperback copy of Julie Orringer's The invisible Bridge. As I stepped towards the book , another man, a smallish fellow always polite, stepped forward as well, eying something on the shelf above. My lust for acquisition nearly revealed itself in a body check. owing instead to unexpected grace, I contorted myself and cleared the line like Nemanja Vidic. Yes, with book in hand.