The bookstore had always been there, hadn't it? 

If it weren't for uncle Marvin, I would've never remembered it was there. The old bookstore with a brass doorknob, wedged between an old bank-turned-office building and a coffee shop that served delicious madelines.

My brother and I nodded. Of course we'd seen the bookstore. In was in old town, a staple of the neighborhood. My uncle nodded knowingly. He asked if we'd ever gone in and we all went quiet. My family had volumes, tomes, piles of books. They'd been dog-eared and there was writing in the corners. A friend had once said we were a family that loved stories but hated books.

The conversation paused, like it'd forgotten itself. And then my mom brought up the topic of a new show on TV and the conversation started back up again. Eagerly. Everyone'd forgotten all that about the bookstore and the conversation continued along.

It had all but left my mind until my uncle tapped me with his cane.

"Son, I need you to return a book for me," he rasped. In his hand was a beautiful leatherbound book. The binding was faded, but the gold leaf shone through the worn crimson cover. His eye twinkled and I felt a gentle tug.

I looked at the book as I turned it over in my hands and then over to the bookstore across the street. As I walked closer, the sounds of the city grew louder. It almost like the city was trying to get my attention, distract me from where I was going. I could hear a taxi driver arguing about fare behind me and smell the roasted coffee beans in the cafe next door.

I walked closer and the shop defied attention. The large unmistakeably old windows reflected the record shop behind me. I moved closer and the trees in the distance rustled while the shop did its best to shrink away from my view.

A spider made its way down the awning and slowly crawled across the door. I waited, amused. It was almost like the bookstore didn't want my attention. Like it was struggling to distract me and, failing that, scare me off.

All of which the spider was aware of, of course. It walked, menacingly across the door. And slowly drew its eight eyes to the stranger and... realized this wasn't working. Soo was waiting patiently, with an amused look on his face. Then, almost comically, the spider gave up it's endeavor and made it's way to a small crevice in the entryway below its windows. It disappeared, embarrassed at its own foolishness.

I laughed, quietly. Of course spiders didn't menace just as shops didn't shrink away from attention. But it was fun pretending all the same.

I smiled to myself one last time before I reached out for the brass doorknob. It felt surprisingly warm compared to the brisk autumn air. The knob turned with a tingling sensation and inside it was quiet.