callmem0mā:
Wanda knew she was going a littleā¦. overboardā¦.
She was the only person at the daycare who bothered to buy new books for the kids out of their own pocket, not to mention to do so frequently, but she just couldnāt help it, she didnāt have children of her own- yet- and having nowhere else to put her attention meant that all of it ended up being poured onto the kids at work
And could anyone blame her? They were soā¦. calm and peacefull during storytime, always staring up at her with those big curious eyes, like she was concocting the most incredible fable known to man- even if that āfableā was a Captain Underpants book
And really, it was the bookstoreās fault, the post-Motherās Day sale had lured her in and she couldnāt be blamed for filling up her basket when they were all from the 30% Off tableā¦
Unfortunately- or, fortunately, depending on how one looked at it- as she was veering off to the full-priced kids section, she turned a corner a little too sharply and bumped right into someone, causing her to drop her basket, books flying everywhere
āOh gosh, Iām so sorry!ā she exclaimed, trying to determine if the stranger had dropped anything due to her inattention
āAre you ok?ā
He wasnāt sure what brought him here. Of course, heād always been a man with an appreciation for literature. He could get lost in books for days, had a thirst for adventure and a more culturally rich life that books knew just how to quench. Yet here he was. Staring blankly at the kidsā section on his way out of the classic literature wing, as if there was something heād forgotten.
Heād never had kids, never really made room in his life for relationships either. Didnāt think heād ever even be the type of man who could enjoy that sort of domesticity. The sound of children crying was annoying more than anything, and he wasnāt sure he could ever bare to watch childrenās tv. But an itch at the back of his skull had stopped him dead in his tracks.
Of course, heād been standing here like an idiot with no kind of awareness of his surroundings, and he learned that quite quickly when a woman bumped straight into him, knocking the book heād been holding directly out of his grip. The Riddle of the Sands, by Erskine Childers, landing directly on the hardwood floor. The regained his composure pretty quickly, straightened out his suit with practiced ease.
āIām the one who should be sorry, itās alright.ā He smiled, his voice calm, collectedā it carried a warm and friendly tone that would almost contrast the cold of his resting face from before the collision. āIā¦ wasnāt paying attention.ā A bit awkwardly, he went to pick the book he dropped, and a few he didnāt recognize. āI assume these were yours?ā
āHonestly, neither was I,ā Wanda confessed, already starting to regather her fallen basket, looking up a second later
āThey are, yes, thank you,ā she answered, gently taking the books to put back in her basket, her frayed nerves only just starting to settle, allowing her to pay a bit closer attention to the person who she had run into
He had been stopped in front of the childrenās section, just like she had, and although seeing men there wasnāt as rare as old TV shows and gossip would have you believe, this one didnāt quite fit the usual vibe of exhausted single dads or committed house husbands that she usually saw though...
He was a bit more of an anomaly
āWere you um.... looking at anything in particular? With the.. kids books? I just.. I work at a daycare so I um... I guess Iām kind of... in the know about whatās popular with the under-six crowd, if youāre looking for a... gift or... something for your little one..?ā
Why was she offering? ...Well... sometimes Wanda couldnāt quite help herself....
