“You’re back again,” said the guy at the check out counter of your favorite bookstore.

You glanced up at him from the book you were reading and smiled. “Yep,” you said, handing him the stack in your arms. You kept reading the book in your hands as he scanned each of the books.

“One Hundred Years of Solitude. That’s one of my favorites,” he said.

You looked up. “Oh, really?” you said, trying to fight the urge to keep reading. “I like it a lot.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you do,” he said, putting your books in a bag.

You turned back to the words, lost within seconds. You took the bag from his hands without looking up.

“Enjoy,” he called after you as you neared the exit.

You nodded and waved without looking back. You just opened the door and walked out.