Bruno took a deep breath and pushed the door open. He was instantly hit with the earthy, ancient smell of paper that puffed from the opening of volumes of books in the Argosy Bookstore. For a moment, his mind reeled with fleeting images of memories that he could have sworn had been burned away with years of more pressing and haunting visions. He quelled the notions, and marched to the sound of his frantic heart, marched to the wingless Nike poised on the top of a wooden ladder. Her delicate fingers barely touched the covers of the books, and Bruno felt stunned by the sparkling of the light on her nails. His heart stopped; he floated to the foot of the ladder, and struck by the sudden impulse to scramble up the wooden rungs and rescue the princess from her base labor, he gripped the ladder and placed a foot on the bottom rung. What gave him pause was the deep, lazy curve of her back as she reached as far as she could to place a thick, dusty leather bound book.
Bruno took a deep breath, and he caught a hint of her scent. He swayed, dazed by her radiance, her presence, and, certain that he must save her, must carry her to the sanctuary of his home, he began to climb.
The slick soles of his shoes slipped over the rung, and he stumbled. His eyes locked on hers as he hit the floor and she turned in shock. Her hair swung across her cheek and lips in a whirlwind of invisible fire, and Bruno's breath caught. Unable to speak, he reached out as she lost her grip and fell, like Lucrece, whips of fabric bustling about her in slow motion as his enthralled mind suspended her in mid-air.
She fell on him, forcing his breath out of him. He would have cried out, whether in fear, or pleasure, he was not sure – for fear of frightening her.
And then she looked at him – really looked – and she recoiled. "God!"
Both scrambled to their feet, flushed – he with shame, she with the shock of the fall.
Bruno heard his feet slamming down on the carpeted floor, but couldn't tear his eyes off her. The young man rushed to her side, and, as if unaware of the specter his friend had mesmerized, proceeded, "What's wrong, Emma? Are you hurt?"
Emma brushed his hands off of her in irritation. "Yes, yes. I'm fine. Ambros, I'm fine."
Ambros seemed satisfied with that answer, and turned to Bruno. "What?"
Bruno's mouth opened and closed for a few moments, then he turned and fled. He'd be right on time for his father's lessons.