The Scent of Leather

Living in a small town has its perks. Avoiding the hustle and bustle of city life among a sense of community and familiar faces makes this town feel like home. As much as I appreciate the friendly smiles and welcoming voices, going unnoticed at times is just as important to me.

Spending time alone is my biggest source of comfort, and one of my favourite ways to be alone is curled up in bed with a book.

I woke up this morning intending to add to my growing collection of novels and poetry, but the heaviness I had been avoiding in my chest was digging deeper by the day. The thought of small talk with those I knew at the local bookstore invoked anxiety and stress. I debated spending the day curled up under the covers yet again, until I remembered the rickety used bookstore a short drive from home that I had neglected visiting since it had opened a few months prior.

Begrudgingly, I willed myself to crawl out of bed, one foot after the other, and set out to find a sense of peace amongst the scent of leather and paper.

My car shuttered to a halt a block away from my destination. I took a few deep breaths, hoping that with every exhale the rain cloud in my mind would begin to dissipate. It had been increasingly difficult to see through the fog these past few months. Everywhere I looked, I saw humans, but no humanity. Perhaps it was all in my mind, but I couldn’t shake the feeling, and it seemed good news was few and far between.

With a sigh, I stepped out onto the icy pavement. Hands in my pockets, head to the ground, I shuffled along the sidewalk.

I neglected to look up for fear of conversation, or forcing a smile at a passerby. I didn’t have the strength. I was staring through the ground, yet a pair of eyes were suddenly looking back up at me.

“Spare change?” the man asked shakily, his voice weak and his eyes tired. I shook my head and regretfully informed him I had none, but wished him a blessed day and smiled as best I could.

“Humans, but no humanity.” I thought to myself. I glanced back over my shoulder at the cold, hard ground the man had made a home out of. He had smiled at me as I walked away, and I was grateful. I didn’t realize how much we had both needed one.

As I approached the bookstore, I stubbed my toe on the doorframe and instinctively reached out to catch myself before embarrassing myself further. The bell hanging at the door rang aggressively, alerting everyone to my presence. Blushing, I whimpered a quiet “hello” as I stumbled inside, and finally allowed myself to look up from the ground.

The building was small and cramped, but I looked on in wonder at the endless novels stacked from the floor to the ceiling. I marveled at how many stories there were in this one building alone, many of which were dusty and untouched. I thought of all the authors within these walls, their words hiding between thick covers and aging paper, left unnoticed.

Reading was one of my greatest joys - immersing myself in someone else’s story, and stepping away from my own. Closing the book at the end was the worst part, suddenly flashing back to a reality I was unsure of being a part of.

The floorboards creaked under my weight as I ran my fingers along the shelves, my fingertips touching leather spines and leaving trails through the dust. I felt quiet as a mouse, hidden amongst the shelves until my delicate touch unexpectedly sent a book tumbling loudly to the floor. I muttered an apology, and reached down to recover the little black book that had fallen into a cloud of dust.

As I reached to return it to its home, I noticed something sticking out between the pages. I flicked through them, realizing it was a notebook and not a novel at all. As I reached the disturbed page, I froze.

“If you’ve found me, I am yours. From one stranger to another, I wish you well.”

My eyes skimmed the cursive words before landing on the crumpled envelope among the pages. I trembled with anxiety after all the disturbances I had already created as I gently tore open the envelope.

Inside, I found a stack of old bills in massive denominations. Flipping the envelope over, I read the amount scribbled on the back. Twenty thousand dollars.

My shaking hand travelled to my mouth as my eyes welled with tears at what I had discovered. What do I do? Do I tell the owners of the store?

The employees were suddenly nowhere in sight.

I contemplated how this discovery could massively change my life, solve so many problems I had been neglecting to manage. Without thinking, I turned and hurried out the door, the bell ringing as the door slammed behind me.

I tried not to cry out of happiness as I stumbled away down the sidewalk, clutching the envelope tightly to my chest. Despite this, the heaviness in my heart still weighed me down.

Lost in thought, I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and found myself looking into the sad, deep brown eyes of the man sitting on the pathway yet again. I began to apologize, but he shook his head and smiled, reassuring me it was okay.

“Happens all the time, miss. No worries.” he said softly.

Still clutching the envelope, the cloud in my mind finally began to clear. I felt my arms extending, loosening my grip on the envelope, and I reached down towards the man on the sidewalk.

“I think this is for you. Have a blessed day.” I said gently, placing the envelope in his hesitant hand.

His eyes darkened with confusion, but he nodded and thanked me, still unsure of the contents of the envelope.

Smiling, I turned and walked away before he had a chance to investigate the envelope.

As I returned to my car, I realized the heaviness in my chest was no more. I could breathe with ease again. My legs no longer felt heavy and stiff. My thoughts were clear, and my hope was evident.

When the world is lacking humanity, perhaps we can find it again within ourselves. We cannot change the world on our own, but we can change someone else’s world for the better.

And maybe, that’s enough.