#pixelsstart

"ah, excuse me..." alan absently reaches towards a passerby who swiftly ignores him. the crowd for the reopening has gotten him a bit turned around. he'd lost alice somewhere between the barbecue stand and the bookstore's stall.

"do you have a sec-," another brush off.

"sorry, but have you seen my wife?" finally someone is paying attention. "she's about ye tall, blonde, name is alice."

"i hear you, i hear you," alan whisper-shouts into the phone, trying to get a book order figured out between the small town bookstore and a publishing house in the u.k. "will you please just put me through to the big boss, i am sure that he'll recognize my number when he sees- oh! and... they've hung up on me..." he turns his attention back to a lingering customer, his lips turning up into his best customer service grin. "hi, sorry about that... how can i help you?"

alan makes the calculated decision to visit the museum right before closing. he’s hopeful that all the families have headed home to get dinner ready before the early bedtimes of their kids. unlike those families, alan can make dinner as late as he needs or wants to. it’s one of the perks of not having children, he thinks. he paces the exhibits at his leisure, scenes of his books’ characters tracing the same steps writing themselves in his mind. he sees another passerby, and turns to them with his hands folded behind his back.

“this is going to be a strange question, but stick with me—i’m writing a book,” he prefaces, turning back to the exhibit’s display. “do you think it would be possible for someone to steal one of these giant taxidermy pieces without being caught?”

“knock, knock,” alan didn’t know exactly who or what he was looking for when the bookstore owner sent him to the high school to deliver a stack of books. he is in the main office expecting to see someone at the front desk, but all he sees are empty hallways and unmanned desks. he’s sure all the students were in their classrooms along with their teachers. first period, right? alan hadn’t stepped foot in a school of any sort since he’d graduated college; being here hits him with a wave of nostalgia. he feels out of place.

“i’ve got a book delivery here… anyone around?” he calls out to seemingly empty air.

alan had been sorting through box after box of vinyl in magical melody, he thought treating himself to a new (or used) record would bring him some kind of clarity for writing the next installment of the alex casey series. or, if not a full book maybe just a chapter. so far, the records he'd come across had left him uninspired, but the music blasting from the wall speakers had him bobbing his head a bit. maybe he could type along to a beat like this. he gives up his search among the vinyl, and heads to the counter.

"do you know what's playing?" he asks, pointing up in the air like the music is a tangible object. "i think this might just inspire me enough to warrant buying the whole record."