h；？　Dan　practically　yelled；　his　pinkies　now　lodged　in　his　ears。　？I　guess　I　better　hit　the

road。　Gotta　get　to　work。　Make　the　donuts。You　know　how　it　is！？

？Why　are　you　screaming？？　she　asked　quietly；　her　eye…brows　knitted　in　question。

？Oh；　sorry。？　Dan　laughed。　He　downed　his　coffee　in　one　quick　gulp；　ignoring　the　burning

sensation　in　his　throat；　and　reached　past　Vanessa　to　grab　his　folded…up　copy　of　theNew　York

Review　of　Books　to　read　on　the　subway。　？So。　？Bye。　Have　a　good　day；？　he　added；　resisting　the　urge

to　kiss　her。

？？Bye；？　she　called　after　him。

But　hello；　awkward？！

The　rolled…upReview　tucked　safely　in　his　damp　armpit；　Dan　bounded　down　the　musty　granite

stairs　toward　the　legendarily　filthy　employee　lounge　at　the　Strand。　The　dark　stairwell　smelled　like

moldy　books；　which　should　have　been　nasty　but　was　actually　one　of　Dan？s　favorite　smells。

He　had　thirty　seconds　to　stash　his　paper；　grab　his　name　tag　out　of　his　locker；　and　report　to　the

floor　for　duty。　None　of　the　bookstore？s　managers　had　any　sense　of　humor　about　things　like

tardiness。　They　were　crusty；　liberal　pseudoacade…mics　who　resented　young　summer　job　kids　like

Dan；　who　they　all　just　called　？the　new　kid？　or　？hey；　you；？　despite　the　fact　that　he？d　been　working

there　full　time　for　almost　a　month　and　wore　a　name　tag　everyday；　just　like　they　did。

How　glamorous。

Dan　burst　into　the　tiny　lounge；　accidentally　banging　the　door　against　the　wall；　startling　a　skinny

kid　with　short；　mussed…up　blond　hair　and　horn…rimmed　glasses　too　big　for　his　square；　wide…eyed

face。

？Sorry；？　Dan　muttered；　dashing　over　to　his　designated　locker？a　tiny；　one…foot…square　cubby　just

inches　above　the　dust