That was only a slight exaggeration. It was almost 70 degrees outside, the building was packed with a mob of book lovers, and they decide to blast the heater. As if having hot flashes at 24 isn’t bad enough, let’s drop the sun right into the middle of the room like a disco ball.
I went to the references table first and grabbed Fowler’s Modern English Usage, Things That Make Us Sic, On Writing Well, and A Manual for Writers. The latter was one of the books I read when I was 16 and hungry for more information on becoming a novelist.
I went through the literature table twice, searching for classics. I found my all-time favorite book, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, but illustrated. I also grabbed The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank, The Catcher in the Rye, Death of a Salesman, and War and Peace.
Not bad for $19, eh?
Actually, I paid $22.50 thanks to the ATM fee that I didn’t even need. Turns out that the $20 I had was sufficient and I didn’t need to run to the ATM in a panic, thinking I wouldn’t have enough.
Who am I kidding? I would’ve paid double that, anyway. Why? Because books are precious and worth every penny.