After clocking out from his job, James wandered into the shabby, little convenience store he passed by every day. He was in no mood to socialize and wanted nothing more than to bury himself in a good book. The evening air was cool as he made his way over to the store's solitary toilet stall, locked the door behind him, and sat down on the squat toilet.
He pulled out his worn-out Kobo reader from his backpack, powered it up, and started reading 'Salem's Lot by Stephen King. His heart sank into the story as it always did. The pages were stained with countless tear drops and coffee spills, evidence of how much he had poured into every word. The book was tattered and worn, yet still held together by the sheer force of love for the craft.
James couldn't help but reflect on how much of an escape these books were for him. They took him away from reality, where he felt like an outcast, and transported him into worlds of danger and excitement. He lost himself in the words, completely immersed in the story, unaware of anything else around him.
He didn't realize how much time had passed until he heard a soft knock on the door. "Is everything okay in there?" a nervous voice asked. It was the store owner, wanting to check on him. "Yeah, I'm good," James assured her, not wanting to interrupt his reading. But the knocking persisted.
Finally, he sighed and put the Kobo down on the dirty floor, standing up to answer the door. The sight that met his eyes was enough to make him gasp. A young woman stood there, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide, and her lips parted in shock. She was staring at him like he was a stranger, which he sort of was.
"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, her gaze darting between him and the open toilet door behind him. "I didn't know anyone was in here." She opened her mouth to say something else but nothing came out. James couldn't help but feel self-conscious himself, dressed in his grubby work clothes and holding a dirty e-reader.
"It's okay," he finally managed to say. "I just needed some quiet to read." He gestured towards his locked door. "I wasn't... um, you know. I wasn't doing anything weird." They both smiled awkwardly, filled with an embarrassment they couldn't explain.
James finished wiping his hands on his pants and picked up his Kobo, tucking it back into his bag. The young woman cleared her throat. "I'm sorry if I intruded," she said, her voice a whisper. But before she could leave, James spoke up.
"Hey," he said, stopping her in her tracks. "Do you like to read?" She looked at him with surprise, as if the idea had never crossed her mind before. "Yeah," she finally replied. "I guess so."
James smiled. "Well, have you heard of this author?" He pulled the battered copy of Stephen King's book out of his bag, showing it to her. She gasped, her eyes lighting up with recognition.
"Yes! I love his books!" she exclaimed. They stood there, two strangers bonding over a shared love of literature, in a shitty little store that neither of them wanted to be in. But for that moment, it was perfect.
The young woman introduced herself as Amy and they chatted about their favorite authors and genres. James found himself forgetting about the filthy surroundings and the awkwardness of their initial encounter. Before he knew it, they were out of the store, walking and talking about books under the stars.
As the night wore on, they exchanged contact information and made plans to go to the library together the next day. For the first time in a long time, James felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone after all. And maybe, just maybe, there was someone out there who understood him. He couldn't wait to find out.
