The Messenger
1/1
Kasim, a tall Turkish man of 23, turned around towards the continually shrinking stack of books and picked up three with his brown, callused hands, placing them right-side up on the top shelf. The repeating pattern of the spines and sleeves of novels was almost hypnotic in front of his black eyes as he finally got down from the step stool and made his way back to the front counter. The large boots he wore were the only audible thing in the entire shop, not counting the hustle and bustle on the outside street where his partner, an eighteen year-old Syrian boy named Kadar, is selling discounted paperbacks. It was only those two working the entire shop, for their boss, Ms. Weed, had taken a vacation to Spain. Kasim was told that she wanted to visit family, but he had noticed Ms. Weed moping around the shop like an abandoned puppy for weeks, and suspected she just needed to get away from it all.
The musty air of old bound books filled the store as the dust floats and settles. Kasim don’t mind working in a place that may be bad for his lungs. Not too many strange people come into a used book shop. Just bookworms and the occasional hipster actually come inside and browse. He’s had this job for a year now and it is so low stress that he feels as if he could run the place himself. Sometimes, though, it could be rather boring.
Kasim hears the giant stomping into the store before he sees him. The giant’s head very nearly touches the ceiling and his massive hands were rubbing together trying to compete with the chill in the air. His body was a canvas for the multitude of tattoos that cover nearly every visible inch of him, from the top of his neck to his ankles, which were visible due to his height. Kasim was not even sure the giant saw him as he waltzed by the counter and headed straight to the back shelves of the store. He makes Kasim uneasy as he heard him stop in front of the classics, but a little voice in his head asks him, “Who would want to steal books, much less from here?” One can never be sure of another man’s intentions. Maybe the weirdo is placing a bomb in here, or maybe he’s a stalker and watching someone out the window…
Kasim soon realized that his mind had wandered itself into the fiction section and made a home there. The big guy was probably just looking for a bloody book, ever think of that Sherlock? The T-Mobile jingle reached the storekeepers ears, and his attention was diverted to his phone in his pocket. He struggled to get the device out of its hiding spot and pressed the little green button.
“Hello?”
“Kasim, hi! I was just calling to ask if everything is going okay at the store,” said a strong, middle-aged voice that belonged to the owner of the store, Marthe Weed.
“It’s been just fine. How has your vacation been? Having fun in Spain?”
“It has been wonderful, thank you. I was just calling to check up. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Yes ma’am, I will. Have a nice time.” Upon hanging up, Kasim looked up and nearly jumped, startled to see the giant standing in front of the counter, no readable expression upon his strong face.
“A-are you r-ready to pay for that, sir?” The young man asked tentatively, gesturing towards the book in his hand.
“Yes,” was all he grunted. His voice was deep and demanded respect, almost as if he were in the military. As the books were being was rang up and the price of the book and tax calculated, he asked, “Was that your boss you were talking to on the phone?”
Kasim hesitantly nodded his head. “Yeah, the lady who owns this place, Marthe Weed.” he quickly added, “That’ll be $5.67.”
He handed over a five and a one. “Would you mind giving her something for me? I haven’t seen her in years, but I think she will remember me.” He dug through his coat’s inner pockets and pulled out an envelope thick with paper.
Kasim took the envelope with care. “Who should I say this is from?” he asked as he handed over the book.
“Sam,” the giant said before walking out of the store.
Kasim was about to call out to him “You forgot your change!” but he was already gone by the time he could think straight again. That was his goal before he even came into the shop: to give an employee the envelope to give to Ms. Weed. He never planned to give it to her himself because then he would have never bothered with the envelope. They must have been close for him to know what store she ran and that she would not be here…
Promptly after Sam walked out of the store, Kadar poked his dark head inside the door and looks around the shop, as if searching for something.
“Hey, Kasim, is there anyone in here?” the man behind the counter hesitantly glanced around the store, even if he knew there is no one else in there.
“No, there isn’t.” he replied.
“Good, fantastic.” Kadar opened the door fully and walked inside. “Who was that guy? He looked like a foreigner, a weird one at that. What did he give you?”
Kasim was confused. “How do you know he gave me anything?” he asked.
Kadar wiggled his eyebrows and pulled his face into the expression of someone trying to hold in a laugh. “The window. I see a big brute of a man walk into the shop with only my partner inside, I get worried,” he rested his skinny arms on the counter. “So, what did he want?”
Kasim sighed. “He gave me this note to give to Ms. Weed. He said his name was Sam,” he said, stumbling to say the name without an accent.
Kadar’s face turned bright. “Oh, you know who that is, don’t you?” the other young man shook his head. “That’s Ms. Weed’s former husband!”
“How in the hell do you know that?” Kasim questioned.
“I saw Ms. Weed in the bar yesterday, crying her eyes out.” Kadar smirked. “She was drunk out of her mind. She practically told me her life story. Apparently, she just recently got divorced from Sam. I was the one who suggested she take a vacation.”
Kasim gazed down at the envelope. “What do you think is in this?” he asked Kadar.
He shrugged in response. “Probably the pictures of her daughter she’s been moaning about. She said that he should be sending them to her. Apparently, he won custody of the kid.” Kadar’s attitude fell. “I feel kind of bad for her, you know? Not being able to see her kid, going through a divorce…”
Kasim nodded in reply. “Sam seems like an alright guy though. Maybe they could get something arranged…”
“I guess. But hey, it’s not our problem. Just give Ms. Weed the letter and let it go.”
Kadar swaggered out of the store to stand his post at the discounted books outside. Kasim is left there, standing in his ratty clothes, and then he made his way into the back room and placed the envelope on Ms. Weed’s desk, knowing she’ll see it when she gets back. Kasim knew he could not do much for her, but if being a messenger helped, that’s what he would be.
The musty air of old bound books filled the store as the dust floats and settles. Kasim don’t mind working in a place that may be bad for his lungs. Not too many strange people come into a used book shop. Just bookworms and the occasional hipster actually come inside and browse. He’s had this job for a year now and it is so low stress that he feels as if he could run the place himself. Sometimes, though, it could be rather boring.
Kasim hears the giant stomping into the store before he sees him. The giant’s head very nearly touches the ceiling and his massive hands were rubbing together trying to compete with the chill in the air. His body was a canvas for the multitude of tattoos that cover nearly every visible inch of him, from the top of his neck to his ankles, which were visible due to his height. Kasim was not even sure the giant saw him as he waltzed by the counter and headed straight to the back shelves of the store. He makes Kasim uneasy as he heard him stop in front of the classics, but a little voice in his head asks him, “Who would want to steal books, much less from here?” One can never be sure of another man’s intentions. Maybe the weirdo is placing a bomb in here, or maybe he’s a stalker and watching someone out the window…
Kasim soon realized that his mind had wandered itself into the fiction section and made a home there. The big guy was probably just looking for a bloody book, ever think of that Sherlock? The T-Mobile jingle reached the storekeepers ears, and his attention was diverted to his phone in his pocket. He struggled to get the device out of its hiding spot and pressed the little green button.
“Hello?”
“Kasim, hi! I was just calling to ask if everything is going okay at the store,” said a strong, middle-aged voice that belonged to the owner of the store, Marthe Weed.
“It’s been just fine. How has your vacation been? Having fun in Spain?”
“It has been wonderful, thank you. I was just calling to check up. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Yes ma’am, I will. Have a nice time.” Upon hanging up, Kasim looked up and nearly jumped, startled to see the giant standing in front of the counter, no readable expression upon his strong face.
“A-are you r-ready to pay for that, sir?” The young man asked tentatively, gesturing towards the book in his hand.
“Yes,” was all he grunted. His voice was deep and demanded respect, almost as if he were in the military. As the books were being was rang up and the price of the book and tax calculated, he asked, “Was that your boss you were talking to on the phone?”
Kasim hesitantly nodded his head. “Yeah, the lady who owns this place, Marthe Weed.” he quickly added, “That’ll be $5.67.”
He handed over a five and a one. “Would you mind giving her something for me? I haven’t seen her in years, but I think she will remember me.” He dug through his coat’s inner pockets and pulled out an envelope thick with paper.
Kasim took the envelope with care. “Who should I say this is from?” he asked as he handed over the book.
“Sam,” the giant said before walking out of the store.
Kasim was about to call out to him “You forgot your change!” but he was already gone by the time he could think straight again. That was his goal before he even came into the shop: to give an employee the envelope to give to Ms. Weed. He never planned to give it to her himself because then he would have never bothered with the envelope. They must have been close for him to know what store she ran and that she would not be here…
Promptly after Sam walked out of the store, Kadar poked his dark head inside the door and looks around the shop, as if searching for something.
“Hey, Kasim, is there anyone in here?” the man behind the counter hesitantly glanced around the store, even if he knew there is no one else in there.
“No, there isn’t.” he replied.
“Good, fantastic.” Kadar opened the door fully and walked inside. “Who was that guy? He looked like a foreigner, a weird one at that. What did he give you?”
Kasim was confused. “How do you know he gave me anything?” he asked.
Kadar wiggled his eyebrows and pulled his face into the expression of someone trying to hold in a laugh. “The window. I see a big brute of a man walk into the shop with only my partner inside, I get worried,” he rested his skinny arms on the counter. “So, what did he want?”
Kasim sighed. “He gave me this note to give to Ms. Weed. He said his name was Sam,” he said, stumbling to say the name without an accent.
Kadar’s face turned bright. “Oh, you know who that is, don’t you?” the other young man shook his head. “That’s Ms. Weed’s former husband!”
“How in the hell do you know that?” Kasim questioned.
“I saw Ms. Weed in the bar yesterday, crying her eyes out.” Kadar smirked. “She was drunk out of her mind. She practically told me her life story. Apparently, she just recently got divorced from Sam. I was the one who suggested she take a vacation.”
Kasim gazed down at the envelope. “What do you think is in this?” he asked Kadar.
He shrugged in response. “Probably the pictures of her daughter she’s been moaning about. She said that he should be sending them to her. Apparently, he won custody of the kid.” Kadar’s attitude fell. “I feel kind of bad for her, you know? Not being able to see her kid, going through a divorce…”
Kasim nodded in reply. “Sam seems like an alright guy though. Maybe they could get something arranged…”
“I guess. But hey, it’s not our problem. Just give Ms. Weed the letter and let it go.”
Kadar swaggered out of the store to stand his post at the discounted books outside. Kasim is left there, standing in his ratty clothes, and then he made his way into the back room and placed the envelope on Ms. Weed’s desk, knowing she’ll see it when she gets back. Kasim knew he could not do much for her, but if being a messenger helped, that’s what he would be.
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