Her fingertips caress language, desiring to inscribe next to them. Yet she continues reshelving the books. Standing atop the cherry red step ladder she fixed her plaid skirt as to not flash the passerby of the “Religion” section. Amanda stood atop that bookshelf and peered over the adjacent one. Noticing a man, a real definition of a man. Shoulders broad enough to block the aisles, height of the shelf and even better a book in his hand. His back profile was incredibly attractive, the way his jawline eased into his neck and ears sculpting his head like a Ken doll. His dark hair inticing her. As she jutted her neck out to attempt and see what literature his hands held, her glasses fell. In what felt like slow motion, Amanda’s thin framed glasses skied off the slope of her nose and down into the next aisle, landing right next to the man. Frozen in somewhat embarrassment Amanda paused.

“I should throw this book in the other direction” she thought.

It would easily distract the man from her peeping and give her another mundane task to complete with the 5 hours she had left in her shift. The spine of the old book, something about Moses she trailed it up and down now crouched avoiding the man. She lifted her hand and then,

bam. A loud noise was certainly made, yet the book landed in the same aisle as Amanda. Amanda’s heel had given out, gravity pulling her into the hexagonal patterned carpet and nearly knocking the entire shelves of books down with her. On the ground Amanda lay, the fluorescent lights immediately giving her a migraine, embarrassed, a figure came into her eyesight.