Meeting Scene Assignment
Meeting Scene
“Life isn’t Perfect”
By Sydney Whalen
The store was empty. I was surprised to even think that. Bertram and Burkes was never an empty shop. Customers would constantly weave in and out of here like mice searching for scraps, coming and going with stacks of books in their arms. The reason could be that its Sunday at four in the afternoon, however, Sunday or not, there were always customers.
I shrugged it off and continued to be perched on my stool, skimming my eyes over every page of the book I was reading. The afternoon sunlight bleached all of the books on shelves to pale, gilded versions of themselves and warmed the paper and ink inside the covers so that the smell of unread words hung in the air. Dim, drafty and almost abandoned-feeling, every sudden noise seemed to carry itself, echoing off the sloping wooden beams. The thick doors with stained glass reflected against the dark floorboards, numerous colors swirling and overlapping each other as if paints had been spewed onto the ground.
Looking up at the staircase that led to the second floor, I gazed at the tall shelves that were as high as the ceiling. Armies of books were neatly lined up side-by-side, leather bindings coated with a fine layer of dust and some were sitting brand new, gleaming in glossy new covers.
Quickly, my eyes flickered outside from the two large windows that bordered next to the entrance. Piled upon the dew covered grass, the crusted brown leaves whirled in a circle like a small tornado sweeping the beautiful sidewalks, the mystifying colors of the sun shone onto the pile of glistening leaves. Whistler, BC was the wild life and nature’s beauty of British Columbia. I’ve only been to Vancouver twice and it is an impeccable city, but I find more comfort here then any other place. Home is home and nothing could change that. When you have been born and raised in one specific place, you grow an attachment that will never leave. I have grown a deep
“Life isn’t Perfect”
By Sydney Whalen
The store was empty. I was surprised to even think that. Bertram and Burkes was never an empty shop. Customers would constantly weave in and out of here like mice searching for scraps, coming and going with stacks of books in their arms. The reason could be that its Sunday at four in the afternoon, however, Sunday or not, there were always customers.
I shrugged it off and continued to be perched on my stool, skimming my eyes over every page of the book I was reading. The afternoon sunlight bleached all of the books on shelves to pale, gilded versions of themselves and warmed the paper and ink inside the covers so that the smell of unread words hung in the air. Dim, drafty and almost abandoned-feeling, every sudden noise seemed to carry itself, echoing off the sloping wooden beams. The thick doors with stained glass reflected against the dark floorboards, numerous colors swirling and overlapping each other as if paints had been spewed onto the ground.
Looking up at the staircase that led to the second floor, I gazed at the tall shelves that were as high as the ceiling. Armies of books were neatly lined up side-by-side, leather bindings coated with a fine layer of dust and some were sitting brand new, gleaming in glossy new covers.
Quickly, my eyes flickered outside from the two large windows that bordered next to the entrance. Piled upon the dew covered grass, the crusted brown leaves whirled in a circle like a small tornado sweeping the beautiful sidewalks, the mystifying colors of the sun shone onto the pile of glistening leaves. Whistler, BC was the wild life and nature’s beauty of British Columbia. I’ve only been to Vancouver twice and it is an impeccable city, but I find more comfort here then any other place. Home is home and nothing could change that. When you have been born and raised in one specific place, you grow an attachment that will never leave. I have grown a deep