Prose and Cons

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Prose and Cons Page 27

by Amanda Flower


  Because I could not stop for Death,

  He kindly stopped for me;

  The carriage held but just ourselves

  And Immortality.

  He frowned. “It’s not the most cheerful verse in the world.”

  “Emily wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine,” I said.

  “Apparently not.” He laughed.

  Grandma Daisy abandoned the lemonade and hurried over to him. “This must be some kind of mistake.”

  Benedict and I both raised our eyebrows at her.

  She cleared her throat and reached for the volume of poetry in Benedict’s hands. “I mean, there are so many newer novels that you haven’t read. Why don’t we find something else for you? Dickinson is all right, but I’m sure I could find you something else that you would like even more.”

  Benedict stepped back from her. “But I want to read this one. Poetry is food for the soul.”

  Grandma Daisy took another step toward him. “What about some Tom Clancy? James Patterson? I’m sure James has published five books since you were last in the shop. He’s so prolific. I know those are both your favorites.”

  I set my lemonade on an end table. “Grandma, why are you trying to talk someone out of reading a classic American poet?”

  She turned to me, and there was a strange look in her eyes. Was it fear? Fear of what? A book?

  My grandmother may have claimed to be the image of health, but maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she wasn’t right in the head if someone buying a collection of Emily Dickinson’s poetry freaked her out. The thought made me shiver.

  “Daisy, don’t be silly. I have always wanted to read this. It will keep me company as I wait for my customers.” He lifted the book in his hand. “Considering its size, it will keep me occupied for some time. I’ll just take this one today.”

  Grandma Daisy chewed the pink lipstick off her lower lip. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” He smiled good-naturedly. “Now, I must be returning to my post. Let’s ring this up.” He wagged his finger at Grandma Daisy. “And before you say it, I insist on paying for the book.”

  My grandmother and Benedict moved across the huge Oriental rug that covered two-thirds of the shop floor. He had a bounce in his step, and Grandma Daisy dragged her feet.

  After she’d rung him up, Grandma Daisy watched him stroll out of the store. She bit her lip, and I might have been mistaken, but I thought I saw tears in her eyes.

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