Vitality [h.s]

02

(if you'd like, play this song when you see, " * ")
happy reading!!

Isabel Hope

The past few hours I've been trying to forget about today. Since I've typed the header in my notes app, I've felt empty.

Now, to where does one go when feeling empty? Well, my guess would be their job. Not because they necessarily like it, but because it's distracting and well.. money. Fortunately for me, I really do enjoy my job. More unfortunately for me, today's my last day.

I work in a small bookstore, it doesn't pay much but it really is my safe space. I've gone here to disappear from life, to really just take a breather. Miss Fiona, a lovely old woman, owns this store and she's pretty much a second mother to me, though I say she feels like the first.

Since I was up much more earlier than I intended, I opened the store. She very rarely asks me to, but I do it pretty frequently and I always find her very appreciative. She's getting old and I want to do everything I can to help her out a bit, despite the fact I won't be working here much longer.

My hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few strands of hair escaping the hair tie, framing my face. I liked having my hair up, especially when I'm sat on the floor organizing the books on the lower shelves, like today. There was always so much dust collected in this section of the bookstore so I always end up having some sort of sneezing fit. Dust and I do not work well. Putting it up works the best for me, especially since how long my hair has gotten.

"Isabel darling?" I hear her soft voice call out behind a shelf. "Come here a minute."

"Be right there!" I was quick to reply, placing a few books into their correct spot. I get up from where I was sat, brushing off any dust that my pants could've collected, and head towards the direction of her voice.

I always wonder why we always get such few customers here, it's so beautiful. We actually have quite a lot of books as well, for such a small shop. I pity people who don't find joy in reading, but then again it's their loss. Although I find it very selfish, I'd much rather have this "not-so secret" world to myself than having to deal with everyone else knowing.

"Yes?" I say, turning into a row of books where I spotted Miss Fiona, carefully stepping down from a small ladder which she used to put a few books back in their correct sections.

She was wearing a flowery shawl with a white long sleeve you could barely see underneath, paired with washed out jeans. Her reading glasses were hanging around her neck just like a necklace.

"Oh Isabel," Her eyes squint as she smiles, walking towards me. "I just wanted to thank you, my dear." Her hands reach to my shoulders, rubbing them motherly.

"Of course Miss Fiona.. It's my job. I still can't believe you insist to pay me I'd do this all for fr-"

"Stop it child," She shuts me up, "You deserve to be paid, I wish it could be more."

I look down to her, she's seen it all. Her body is history. Her hair was grey and she may not walk well, but she aged so timelessly.

"You've done more for me than I've done myself, I can't thank you enough." Her voice begins to tremble a bit, making me start to get teary.

"I love you, Miss Fia," My arms gently wrap around her delicate body. "I'll miss you more than anyone."

I started getting paid to work here about 2 years ago, but ever since I was 9 I'd come straight to the bookstore after school. Miss Fiona really raised me. Leaving her behind is the toughest thing I could do.

Her embrace was so warm, so calming. "Promise you'll write to me, my dear."

"I promise." I lean out of the hug, still holding her forearms.