The Shop

There is a place where hidden treasures can be found.

A tiny storefront of an old building, in the middle of the avenue. Number 15. Surrounded by more modern shops, most passersby fail to even notice the place.

“Welcome,” offered the store’s proprietor as I entered. A wizened little gnome of a man, his spectacles perched before beady eyes. “May I help you with something?”

“This place is marvelous,” I breathed. “Might I look around?”

“Of course.” The gnome turned back to scratching away in his ledger.

I browsed the shelves and stacks of old books, discovering marvels. First editions, beautifully illustrated folios. Treasures! I wallowed in the smells and sensations of a dusty book shop.

Finally, I discovered the best. Making my choice, I took my book to the register, and the little gnome looked up from his careful handwriting.

“This one,” I said. “I’d like to purchase this first edition Ivanhoe.”

“Not for sale,” harumphed the Gnome.


“This isn’t a book shop.”

I blinked in confusion. “It isn’t?”

“This is a book shop shop. I sell book stores. They’re going out of business by the cartload, you know. You’re standing in my Demonstrator Model.”

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Inspired by this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction photo:

A book shop that is no longer there

Prophetic caption on that photo…


Wish it was raining on the homeland soil

But it’s January and rain is still a distant dream.

Instead, we have cold and snow and traffic mess. January stuff. On the east coast, they’re really wishing for rain today, instead of the blizzard conditions they’re getting.

So what’s up with the rain? Trying to raise our spirits, look ahead to Spring!

Won’t work, too many weeks still to go.

I sure wish it did. The cold and gray persists, along with the mood they inspire. God, I’m tired of winter.

Argh. :bang head on keys: I freakin hate winter.

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Write down the first words that comes to mind when we say . . .

. . . home.

. . . soil.

. . . rain.

Use those words in the title of your post.

There, that was Cheerful. Did you know that the vast majority of America’s serial killers come from the midwest?

Now you know why.