98. Old Fairytales
Date Written: November 12, 2020
Date Posted: December 15, 2020
Characters: Veneziano
Summary: Veneziano has a mysterious encounter with an old bookstore owner after thumbing through an old book of fairytales.
Notes:
Veneziano flipped through the pages of an old Italian book of fairytales, some of which he remembered while others he had completely forgotten. As his ink splattered fingers caressed the pages, he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket, the device instantly lighting up as he addressed the caller.
At the sound of urging, Veneziano sighed before answering, "I'm at a nearby bookstore and—I was thinking—Well, the meeting can..." He was hoping to say that the meeting could wait and that he didn't have to be present—Romano was there—but the voice on the other end was pleading, almost as if the situation on the other end of the phone was dire. Depending on most government functions, the situation itself could just be as trivial as a social gaffe to something that could impact the infrastructure of his government. Despite knowing that, Veneziano wished that he had the wherewithal to argue with his human secretary. Yet, he also knew that it was well past lunchtime and if he didn't start walking back to the meeting hall, there would be hell to pay.
Knowing that he had to at least employ some sort of facade of a work ethic, Veneziano bid the caller a goodbye and began to shelve the book that he had been busy thumbing through. Satisfied that he had put the book back in its proper position, Veneziano made his way out the door.
Before he could step outside, a wizened old man stopped him. His posture, bent over from hunching over the register all day, was so pathetic that Veneziano couldn't help but pity him. Hesitating, he stopped and listened politely as the elder began to address him.
"I thought you were enjoying yourself." The old man's eyes twinkled with mischief with a slight bitter undertone of concern. "Don't you want to read it?"
Veneziano laughed. He could see why the old man was stopping him. Given the state of the shop, it was probably very likely that the establishment barely received any visitors or buyers for that matter. The shelves were fairly dusty, the books out of date and misplaced in certain spots. In fact, wasn't there anyone else to aid the old man?
Concerned, Veneziano couldn't help but glance at the back of the store and only found a sign that clearly stated that the back room was meant for employees. However, there were no other employees that Veneziano could find.
The Italian looked down at the old man who was carefully regarding him as if Veneziano was thinking about running.
"I was thinking about buying that book of fairytales there—" Veneziano nodded at where he knew he put the book where he found it. He then faced the old man again, his eyes trying to find if the old man's only motive was to make sure that he left the store with some sort of purchase.
Veneziano could understand.
It would be disheartening and downright gut wrenching to run a business with little to no people to talk to or buy from your stocks.
As the former Republic of Venice, to see such a business going under rent at his heartstrings.
"—I didn't see the price tag," Veneziano added lamely. He shifted a little on his heels, his face flushing as he mentally totaled the money that he had on his person. The book didn't look too expensive, but that didn't mean that he necessarily had enough… He didn't want to raise the hopes of the old man, but—
The old man leaned into Veneziano's presence, almost as if he wanted to size up his newest customer closer.
"You have the look of a dreamer about you, boy."
Veneziano blinked.
That was definitely not something he expected the old man to say.
"What do you mean," he couldn't help but ask.
He couldn't help but be drawn to the old man's smooth tone, husky from disuse. It didn't sound as forced or as wheezing as before. It almost sounded… powerful? Authoritative? Regardless, Veneziano wanted to listen closely to what he had to say.
The old man shrugged. He backed away into the counter that was deeper in the shop and because Veneziano didn't want to be rude—and because he was curious—he followed after the old man.
"I—" Veneziano wracked his brain for what else he could find within himself to say. "—I've been told that before. How'd you know?"
Was it that obvious?
Or—?
Veneziano was interrupted by the sight of the old man's finger resting on the bridge of his nose. His finger was long and bony, as if all the flesh had sloughed off and replaced with the meager addition of skin to shield muscle and sinew from view. And within seconds, all Veneziano was aware of was the old man's labored breathing, of the light—almost milky—eyes that glared up at him under the store's lights.
"A dreamer needs a dream worth dreaming, yes?"
His words swirled in his head… In and out like smoke…
Without much thinking or hesitation, Veneziano nodded. Slowly.
The old man, for some odd reason, held the book between his fingers, letting it dangle in front of Veneziano's face. Ordinarily, Veneziano would have simply left the shop or just paid for the book point blank, but there was… There was something enchanting about the way that the old just simply stared at him. It wasn't a stare of hostility or of a distance that strangers would often harbor for each other. No, it was…
There was something knowing about it that it had Veneziano holding his breath in confusion and alarm… There was something… There was something off about this situation and—
Suddenly, the book was being shoved in his chest as the old man practically flung the book at him.
"Thank you so much for your business!" The old man gleefully took the bundle of bills that Veneziano must have taken out of his wallet at some point, but when… His memories were fuzzy and then—
Veneziano found himself staring ahead of the cobbled streets that lay outside of the bookstore, confused. He wanted to go back inside, but found that there was no bookstore to be found.
The only thing he had was a book in one hand and an incessantly ringing phone in the other.
His lips curled.
Figures he would get scammed.
