My local Walmart is in the process of being remodeled. I'm happy about that. It's shaping up nicely. Since I'm there just about everyday I check on its progress often.
I browse the aisles with my new shopping cart, peer through the clear glass of the new freezer cases, and tap my shoes on the new faux wood floors. I make my way to the back of the store to find Ginger some treats in the new pet section. Out of the corner of my eye I spot a section I've always been able to avoid while in Walmart. The books.
I must say I'm impressed. I gaze through a rather large section of trade paperbacks the likes of which I've never seen other than in a big box book store. I didn't check any prices since at the moment I was only interested in the selection. I moved to the left to see an even larger section of romance mass market paperbacks. Again it looked like a fine collection to suit a variety of tastes and pocketbooks.
A twinge of anxiety flows through my body. I no longer need to talk Richard into making a trip to the mall. I can hide new books in with the groceries. Will I adore them as much if the pages smell like broccoli or have a splotch of red strawberry juice dribbled across them? I don't think that will bother me. I just have to be sure to keep the books away from the dog treats. Ginger, I'm sure won't be able to tell the difference.
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