Hearts are such fragile things. Broken by small things like deceit or disloyalty, they can be the death of a man. If you aren't a gentle creature, you can destroy the world, sending it off balance with the soft touch a knife in the back. And tears: They were what wrecked even the strongest gent. If your lady got misty-eyed in front of you, forget your anger; you were beat.
After an hour of screaming, destroying the fabric of his brittle relationship, and burning his voice out to a hoarse, raw whisper, Race begun to see the little silvery droplets in her eyes, his lady's eyes. There was no way he could stay anymore as they began to fall. So he ran away to the place where he could breathe: The New York Harbor, smoking expensive cigars and dreaming about sailing the seven seas.
The sky was growing bright with morning, orange and magenta lighting up the water for as far as the eye could see. Beautiful, it was. Beautiful, she was. Bookworm had been with him since the Strike, had fallen madly in love with him the first day they went singing through the streets. She was quick and clever, book smart. Her eyes were always studying and analyzing. And she was Spot's sister.
When they were cheering, whooping and calling like idiots in the street, Spot'd come to congratulate him, bringing along his gorgeous sister. Racetrack had just turned around from a round of high-fives to the sight of gorgeous olive skin and two braids of thick dark hair. Hazel eyes so deep you could dive into them and so captivating you'd never come up for air stared past wire-rimmed glasses.
His eyes took in the beauty that he couldn't comprehend, a slim figure clothed in a light green skirt that fell to her knees. A crinkled white shirt, held by a set of suspenders covered her torso… and when his eyes lingered, Spot cleared his throat. A brass locket rested at the base of her throat. A smudge of dirt touched the skin near her right eye and she wiped it away with a ring-less left hand. Silently his heart whispered: Someday I'll change that.
When their eyes locked together, it was as if he was experiencing every high in his life all over again. A connection had happened, as if one had held the lock and the other held the key and they had just uncovered the mystery of their hearts. Love, their hearts began to sing. And, with stuttering words, they introduced themselves. Spot had already begun to leave to find Jack, so they had all the time they needed to pour their very souls on the table of the nearest diner.
Bookworm had told him everything: From the origin of her name, to her closest friend, Sunshine's. The lonely nights sitting in alleys reading her books under dimmest light, reciting Shakespeare with Sun, the first time she ever drank soda when a pretty boy from the West Side brought it to her—she told him all she could. When she got to the story of wanting to become the first girl Newsie, he was already at the edge of his seat ready to fall into those eyes, filled to the brim with knowledge. He was ready to know everything.
It was around 10 o'clock at night when the owner of the diner kicked them out, and Race began to walk Bookie home. She ran ahead, pulling him by the hand to all her hideout places, pointing out the places where she got her books. And, best of all, she brought him to an alley filled with rusty bikes and pulled two out.
It was then that it really clicked. It was true love.
The light of dawn over the sky was, perhaps, the greatest beauty of New York for Bookworm. Soon after her husband had left her, she had fled with haste to the balcony so she could climb to the roof of their little shack-like attic. With Shakespeare tucked underneath her arm, she ascended to look at the rising sun.
She wouldn't let this fight take her down, when she was smart enough to breakaway. And she did, her eyes a little bit irritated from crying, and her hair a little bit messy from where it stuck to her tear-stained cheeks. Even in all of the mess and tired heartache, she would carry on.
As she read, her mind slowly drifted back down into her home beneath her.
The humble abode of the newlyweds was about as humble as you could get. Each window was stained with the dust and dirt of every creak that the old place made. All over the floor, footprints lay in the soot from the fireplace that could not open to the chimney. Though, in the haze of the smoky little living quarters, she always found solace above; from the books below.
When Racetrack and Bookworm had been walking around the city after the chiming bells and flowery cheer of their wedding, they began to talk about the future. It hadn't taken long to get this far, there were many times they had been ready to tie the knot before this, but only this time they followed through.
Running around New York was pleasant, a spirit of when they first met. They danced in the streets, detoured through alleys and swam in the feel of marriage in the big city. It was perfect, except for one thing: They had nowhere to go home to.
So, Race had to walk his new wife back to Brooklyn. As they neared her home, Bookie gave him a sad smile. Her hair was shining in the setting sun, her eyes like gold, but holding more than the value of it. They held his own eyes, his attention, and his heart. He pulled her close by their twined hands and softly kissed her forehead.
A brilliant flush spread across olive cheeks, and they continued their path to a home that was not theirs, but hers. It was a disheartening feeling that haunted the good feel of a perfect day. And they both feared that the mood was ruined… until they arrived at the Harbor.
Spot Conlon stood before them, holding a key; a key that meant so much more than the answer to the question of a lock. It meant nights where they would sit and talk until morning. It meant a place to cook and clean and raise a family. It meant a place for Bookworm to curl up and do what she's known best for, and for Racetrack to smoke his cigars as he contemplates whether his wife is as beautiful as the sunrise or sunset, the sun or the moon. Most of all, that key meant home.
And it only got better. As they arrived at the new residence of Race and Bookie, soulmates and partners in love and life, the sign that hung above it caught Bookworm's eye. She ran to the window, Racetrack jogging behind her and noticing what she noticed. The sign read: Moonlight Novels & Novellas.
The calligraphy was smooth and swift like clear blown glass, with a crescent moon by the lettering's side. The shop itself was made of wood, worn and a bit creaky, but it felt as if there was no better place to live. When they entered the store, the smell of paper and ink rushed to welcome them in. It almost felt as though it was saying 'Come in, sit down, fall in love'.
And they did.
Racetrack sighed, stomping out his last cigar and taking his last glance at the sunny harbor.
Bookworm let out a breath, turning the last page of her book and let her eyes meet with the horizon.
Racetrack stopped mid-sigh, his breath hitching as he realized.
Bookwork gasped, finally understanding.
Race ran as fast as he could from the harbor.
Bookie left the book on the rooftop and clambered down the steps to their balcony.
Race stopped in the street to breath, and pulled out his key.
Bookie halted as she locked the door, putting away her key.
They raced madly, trying to reach one another in the crowds of turn-of-the-century welcomers. They pushed people out of the way to find one another, holding onto the hope and possibility that they could salvage their love. Desperate for the heartache to stop, they pulled back the feeling of loneliness and it was the worst mistake. With the book left on the rooftop, the cigar left at the harbor, they left behind that loneliness.
And now they needed to reach each other. Growing frantic within the crowds, they thought they may not see each other. Their hearts beat in quickly-tuned harmony. Falling back into despair, until they fell… into each other.
They both turned in tune, their lips going to form an apology. A moment quicker than their eyes meet, they realize.
And when their eyes do meet, they're already kissing.
Right in the exact spot their eyes first met.
They fall in love…
all over again.