I knew from the moment I walked into that Barnes and Noble that I had made a mistake.  Not just because Barnes and Noble is practically the Wal-Mart of the literary world(maybe not that bad, maybe just Target bad).  But I chose to remain instead of walking out the door – maybe because of the Starbuck’s Siren call, or maybe because it is hard to pass by a place that contains all of your good friends. Just peruse the shelves, and gently touch the binding of those books you’ve read, like giving an old friend a hug. Or sometimes, put your hand on the cover of books you intend to read but haven’t yet, like giving everyone that dwells inside of them a promise: I’ll be there, I’ll be back.

            The feeling of kinship with books is better in a library for some reason – but my library doesn’t allow coffee inside.

            I shuffled past the useless bargain books, mostly containing the whores of literature, where plots were as predictable as receiving a gift of socks from my Aunt Susie on Christmas. Today, just coffee. Just coffee. Some other day, I could run in and say hello to everyone in the store. Today, today my sister was getting married. I was the maid of honor. The dress was in the car and this was the first free moment I had had in three weeks, but it was only for a coffee break. The ceremony started in three hours. Eyes on the floor. Just coffee.

            Coffee. No books.

            A moment later, I realized that the line in front of me at Starbucks had disappeared and a Barista was asking if she could take my order. From the way she was leaning over the counter, she has apparently been asking for some time.

            “I have to be at my sister’s wedding in three hours.”

            “Oh.” The barista returned behind the safety of the counter, “Would you like two shots of Espresso? Do you have a Barnes and Noble membership?”