book market

While the sun pleasantly warms her uncovered shoulders, she leafs through the fragile old book that she has just discovered among the others on a table at the second-hand book market. It is not just any dusty old book, on the contrary, she has been looking for it for years and would love to add it to her collection. Carefully she turns the pages, reads a bit here and there and attentively looks at the portrait of the author in the beginning of the book. Her heart stops for a moment when she discovers a faded signature underneath. She gently traces the delicate lines with her index finger. With a smile and a sigh she puts the book back. Unfortunately, it is too expensive for her.

Now and then she looks up from the books, at the other visitors of the market. She picks them out immediately, the real book lovers. They carry a small backpack, or are dragging a shopping bag on wheels. A backpack is enough for her today, she doesn’t plan to buy a lot of books. Only the most special ones, if they are affordable, are allowed to go home with her. Of course, you can never have too many books, but in the long run you can run out of space to store all of them.
She is on her second round along the tables and boxes full of books, to make sure she hasn’t missed anything. She is enjoying the lovely summer weather to the fullest, but perhaps she shouldn’t have worn a sleeveless top, because her pale skin burns easily.

Across the market, she sees an intriguing man about her age. He is engrossed in a pile of old books and fortunately also carries a small backpack. He has a warm light brown skin, which contrasts nicely with his moss-green T-shirt. And he has a full head of medium-length dark hair, of which a lock keeps falling in front of his eyes, which he then thoughtlessly brushes away again. When he raises his head, …