It's just an article {h.s}

Chapter 10

We only walk for around 15 minutes and even though I still feel awful about everything that's happened I try to bury my feelings. I feel so bad that Harry's taking time out of his day to comfort me when I've spent the past week manipulating him. Maybe if I pretend that I'm feeling better then he won't feel like he has to stay. Not that I want him to go. For some reason, even though he gave me a fake number, I feel better when he's around. I don't want him to leave but I also don't want to inconvenience him, so it's better if I just try and pretend that everything's okay.

Harry leads me into a relatively nondescript building off to the side of the road. The building doesn't stand out as particularly special or important and it's certainly not somewhere I would picture a celebrity frequenting, with its plain red brick exterior and single slightly dirty window. Quite frankly the outside leaves me slightly disappointed and I'm certainly confused as to why Harry wanted to take me here of all places. However, walking into the shop I'm blown away and quickly realise that I definitely judged this place too harshly.

As soon as we open the door we're instantly surrounded by second-hand books that fill the room with a comforting, musty scent. The smell alone is enough to make me relax, nearly completely calming the remaining storm of my breakdown. I thought that I would struggle to try to act like everything was okay, that I would have to act like I was feeling happy when I really wasn't, but now I almost feel like I don't have to. Books have always been a safe place for me, whenever I was angry, stressed, or upset I would always turn to reading as a source of comfort. There was just something so reassuring about becoming fully immersed into somebody else's life, so much so that my own worries and problems simply fade to background noise. I always loved how reading allowed my troubles to become something that I could block out without a second thought instead of the all consuming spirals they usually were. Even when I was a child I would turn to books when things went wrong.

This was probably due to my mother and her great love for literature, in fact it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say that her parenting characterised my childhood with a love of language. My fondest childhood memories were the days when my mom would spend all day reading with me, making our way through classics like 'Little Women' and 'Sense and Sensibility', me reading them for the first time and my mother revisiting them with fondness. I don't know how Harry knew, or maybe he didn't, maybe it was just a lucky guess, but this is exactly where I need to be right now.

The shop itself is beautiful in it's simplicity, focusing on the books instead of the consumer like we so often see. Apart from the counter, which is right by the door, the whole shop is filled with large, fully stacked wooden bookshelves that take up most of the floorspace. The room itself is quite narrow but seems to be relatively long, the bookshelves lining the walls giving the illusion of extra space. The floor appears to be dark wooden floor boards but it's hard to tell exactly due to the multitude of Persian rugs that overall add to the homely atmosphere. What I can only describe as a collection of old pendant lights that appear mismatched but also distinctly similar hang from the ceiling, lighting the room in a soft yellow glow and at certain points the room opens up, creating little niches with mismatched armchairs and coffee tables.

"This place is incredible." I exclaim as I run my hand across the spines of the books while walking down the aisles, still trying to take it all in.

"I know, it's one of my favourite places in New York." Harry says

"I can see why, it's beautiful. I can't believe I've lived here for three years and never known this place existed. I guess work and school took up so much of my time that I never really had a chance to discover New York and all its beauty."

Moving to the city was always the dream for me. My whole life I was so excited to explore the city but I knew when I moved here for school that exploring had to take a back seat if I ever wanted to become a journalist. So I spent all my time focused on school and then when I graduated I focused all my time on work, pushing exploring to the sidelines. I guess until today I never really realised how much of a backseat it took. I mean sure, maybe it's not abnormal to not know about this little bookstore but the more I think about it the more I realise that it's not just this bookstore. I barely know anything about the city I call home, hell I'm no better than a tourist! Maybe Kayla was right, maybe I am incapable of doing or thinking about anything other than my career.