Chris slammed the book down on the library table, in front of her best friend and started pacing, muttering and growling at the same time.
"This is a library. You're supposed to be quiet," sighed Nina, in a hushed voice. "That's why we come here, remember? So you can practice being quiet."
Chris turned and glared at her. Then she shoved the book toward her.
"Can I assume the story takes place in a small town, where three women are friends and one of them inherits a bookstore, music shop, or apartment in Paris and..."
"I can't stand it. The stories are all the same, only the names change. I think Science Fiction will end up in being in small towns on other planets where someone inherits some kind of store even there. An unhappy woman will take a rocket to said planet, open the shop, or save it, or have it repaired by the only other person living there, a man her own age who..."
"I get it," said Nina, holding up her hand. "I get it. But why not stop picking up books you know you'll hate."
"I've read everything else. I'm trying to FIND something new to read, but there isn't anything out there. Everyone is publishing the same thing. Weeping, brokenhearted women from small towns and the endings are all the same. I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANY OF THEM."
"Read some of you're non fiction books."
"I'm not in the mood," sighed Chris.
"I am not going to tell you again," said Miss March, tapping Chris on the shoulder with a wooden ruler. The old kind with a thin piece of metal running the full length, so anyone using it could get a sharp straight line. "You simply cannot keep yelling in this library. You've been doing it since you were a child and I just don't know what to do with you, now that you're an adult."
"Sorry, Miss March."
"You always say that, but you never stop being loud."
"I know."
"Why?"
"I guess the disappointment, rage, frustration, and aggravation at the state of stories being written just can't be held inside me."
Miss March looked at her and smiled. "I've worked at this library for thirty-five years and that's the best excuse I've ever heard."
"Thank you," said Chris, grinning.
"If you're going to stay, please lower your voice, or just don't say another word."
"Chris nodded and pulled out a chair."
"She let you off easy," said Nina. "I thought she was going to hit you with the ruler, or make you carry and shelve books, like she did last time."
"She's not a violent person and she loves us. She would never hurt either one of us."
"You do get on her nerves."
"I brighten her days," laughed Chris. "It can be so boring in here."
"I doubt she'd agree. By the way, isn't there a saying that tells people to write their own book, if they don't like what other people are writing?"
"Yes."
"So?"
"I get your point."
"You hate novels, why do you even pick them up?"
Chris shrugged. "I guess I keep hoping."
"You like the covers. Admit it. That's you're problem, you're a cover junkie."
"I may be swayed by a cover, now and then," said Chris. "That's true. I guess when I want to escape, I just like Urban Fantasy, so I should stick to that. All that boring stuff about the boring lives of other boring people, no vampires, ghosts, werewolves, just the same old same old. I hate books in small towns, nothing ever happens, no one gets run over by a cab driven by a zombie in small towns and no one marries a vampire either, or saves the world by closing off a wormhole."
"I thought you didn't like zombies."
"I don't. They terrify me. I was just using them as an example."
"Basically, you're saying that if zombies were living in small towns you wouldn't read the books because you're afraid of zombies."
"Yes, and I know how that sounds, so you don't have to tell me."
"Can we move on?"
"Sure."
"This book," said Nina, holding it up, "has a dog on the front."
"So?"
"You never learn," she said. " You'll buy anything with a cat or dog on it."
"I thought maybe it was a magic dog."
"No, you didn't. There are no magic dogs in those kinds of books, there's only dogs who solve little mysteries, or bring in the newspaper in the morning."
"Why is that?"
"Because those books aren't written about cities, where the vampires and wolf dogs live, they are books that are safe to read, for those who want to believe the world is a safe place."
"Wolf dogs?" said Chris, smiling. "Wolf dogs?"
"Okay, werewolves."
"Thank you. I'm going to tell Connor you called him a Wolf Dog," said Chris, trying not to laugh.
"I was not calling him anything. What if the dog on the cover was a poodle?"
"OMG NO! Who would ever think a poodle would be a werewolf?"
"It's possible."
Chris lost focus for a few minutes, then said. "Maybe, but that would just be silly."
Miss March came back and dropped a book in front of Chris's.
"Read this one," she said, and walked away.
"Do you think anyone else knows that Miss March has about ten lovers and writes romance novels?"
"I doubt it. But I think that's why she looks so good for her age."
Chris picked up the book. "Death in a Skyscraper, an Urban Fantasy, with creatures you love to hate. Terror and blood, Alleys and murder, A Big City on the Edge, by Robin West."
"You might like it," said Nina.
"I don't like the cover."
"Try it anyway."
"It's a paperback and the cover has a fold in it."
"Perfectionist."
"That's why I buy books. I can keep them nice and uncreased."
"A lot of people don't like living in cities, you know," said Nina. "For a lot of reasons, like money, crime, hight cost of living, violence and ..."
"Yes. Thank you. I do know that. I'm guessing that most of the people living in small towns don't want to live in a city, or else they would be living in one."
"There might be werewolves in small towns but no one talks about them. Maybe there are whole towns made up entirely of werewolves, or vampires."
"No. Not vamps," said Chris. Too much light in small towns. Open spaces. I imagine they'd like basements, or a lot more dark places."
"Are you still unhappy with your favorite authors?" asked Nina.
"Yes, they don't write fast enough."
Laughter bubbled out of Nina. "You're unbelievable."
"Am not," said Chris, defensively. "They know they have a huge fan base who just waits for the next book in the series, and they go off to write something no one, and I do mean NO ONE, wants to read, leaving millions of us in the lurch...waiting and waiting."
"That's true."
"I know," sighed Chris. "What if I die before the next book is released, or even written? Then what? If I'm dead I might not be able to get a copy."
"Again, that's true. They might not have bookstores on the other side."
"They won't have small towns there either, right?"
"No idea."
"A small town with no bookstore would be hell for some of us."
"Then you better be good and lower your voice."
"Not funny," said Chris. "I wonder if Amazon would deliver."
"If I didn't know your parents, I'd wonder about what kind of family you came from," snickered Nina. "You're so edgy lately. What's up?"
"No idea. Just...mmm...hyper."
"Should we get some ice cream?"
"Yes. And I want to go to the bookstore after we get ice cream," said Chris.
"So do I. I want a book on shade plants for the garden."
"Whatever. I just finished a book where someone rented out dead bodies to the dead so they could animate them and have Christmas with their families."
"What's wrong with you?"
"Hey, I didn't write it and at least no one went to Paris to find a key and letters that their grandmother had an affair when she was twenty-two."
"I guess that's fair."
"Let's just walk and enjoy the day, okay?"
"Okay."
"I'm not reading the book Miss March gave to me. I already don't like it."
"You don't have to read it."
"I know, but she'll be mad at me."
"She's always mad at you."
"That's true," said Chris, happily. "I can't possibly disappoint her anymore than I already have. Thanks. I'm glad I left the book on the table."
"It's nice out."
"Mmmmm, it is."
