THE BOOKSTORE

A single florescent yellow light

randomly hummed a static frenzy

over a black and white tiled floor.

The air was stagnant as if drugged.

Brown paneled walls, stained and

cracked, closed in with coffin anxiety.

Music from the apartment above attempted

an escape through the ceiling above

our heads. A lazy dust coated fan oscillated

without results. The front door was solid,

no window, no trim or markings. When

someone did enter the store, it was always

a surprise that someone found the place.

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