“Hey there, missy,” he said. His white hair stuck out in opposite directions, his top pate bald and shining. The wrinkles embedded in his face seemed to hold a story I might one day be lucky enough to hear. There was a scar that ran from the corner of his right eye, like a lightning bolt, to the temple of his right ear.

“Hey, Mr. Pappy,” I said. “I’m a friend of Ms. Birdie’s and she told me this was the only place to buy veggies.”

“Ah, yes. She would know.”

I chose two fat tomatoes, a cucumber, and an onion the size of my fist and then dropped them into the brown paper bag. I handed money to Pappy. “You making an onion, cucumber, tomato salad today?”

“You got it,” I said.

“My wife, now, she knows how to make a salad.” He stared off at the sky and then smiled. Birdie had told me he would do this—mention his wife in one way or another, even though his wife had passed ten years before.

I nodded. “I would bet her salad is better than mine,” I said, and left the change on the wooden counter, which was really just a piece of plywood over two ancient kegs.

He counted slowly and then smiled. “Thanks.”

“See you tomorrow.” I gathered my bag.

“Tomorrow for sure,” he said. “Now you go do what you need to do today and have a good one.”

I wanted to turn around and holler at him, “If I knew what to do, I’d do it.” But I just grinned.

I parked on the side street next to the bookstore and realized I could’ve walked the two blocks. I entered the store, and the dusty-sweet smell of books filled my senses. I was back in elementary school, hiding in the library during lunch hour because this meant I wouldn’t have to make conversation with the smiling, beautiful people. Back then everyone in the school seemed to know what it meant to be a happy person. I only knew how to have twisted knots in my stomach, which prevented me from opening my mouth and speaking anything that made any sense. Of course I got over this by junior high, but not without a sheer and utter force of will pushed from behind by Sadie.

The bookstore was quiet and buzzing in the same way as a forest: Activity is evident, but done in the most quiet and efficient of ways. Throughout the room, bookshelves were pushed together like an overcrowded party of shy people waiting for someone to talk to them. I wound my way through the aisles, passing a few women picking books off the shelves, reading the back blurbs. I mumbled, “Excuse me,” and made it to the checkout counter, which was empty.