les voiles

hands shoved into pockets, slouching, he eyes the bookstore's entrance with mounting discomfort the farther they drift from it, venture deeper into the labyrinthine aisles, volumes bloating the shelves.

he feels like an outsider. ezra remembers reading fewer books in high school than the digits of one hand, doesn't understand this strange temple to pressed paper and printed words.

he follows renée, cluelessly, a bit begrudgingly. when he looks again she's straining for a book, one she'd never reach on her own.

he walks up to slide it off the shelf and holds it out without reading the cover. "this one?' the sooner they get out, ezra tells himself, the better.

"uh. yeah." for lack of anything better to say—it is boring, he won't lie. for a pregnant pause after her words renée stares as if stunned, and ezra steadily meets her eyes, wondering exactly what expression he was making. when she finally retreats to the check-out counter his gaze follows her back.

but he's had enough of books, feels like he's the one crammed tightly between two hard covers on a shelf. exiting the store ahead of renée, ezra leans on the wall right outside the storefront and waits.

he considers having a smoke, but there's not enough time.

"yeah." he pushes off the wall and straightens, adjusting his backpack strap before it can slip off one shoulder. the first fat raindrops catch them not two paces down the street. one hits his cheek and runs down the bone, the next wets his lashes when he glares up at the darkening, smoky sky.

the smattering soon escalates into a deluge, one unbroken curtain of water. from the cover of an awning, ezra looks out in silent resignation. neither of the two have an umbrella, and the storm seems far from letting up.

"my place is a few blocks from here," he starts suddenly, reluctantly. "wanna wait it out there?"

RENÉE DUVAL