Katielyn Mason

Infinite

Infinite His hands moved with practiced ease; an ease that was depicted through every crack in the skin of his hands, and by all the calluses that had built up on his fingertips. His hair was a silver sea of threads, much finer than the threads he used every day, as he sat at his seasoned workbench and stool. Aria was still a small child at the agile age of seven, but she looked at her father thoughtfully as she watched his steady hands move, as though they’d always known the steps to binding a book, as if he’d been born doing it. She studied the defined lines pinching his eyebrows and squinting his eyes, a look that some might interpret as angry, but Aria only knew as focused. He finished his stitch and looked down at his patiently watching Aria, bringing a soft smile to his tired face. “I’m glad you watch so intently Aria, one day you’ll be able to do this, and this bookstore will be yours' ', he gave her face a soft caress before once more returning to his work.