Librarian in Paris

So far, my experience with Paris consists of aerial views and two four-hour layovers in the Charles De Gaulle Airport. Many Americans go to Paris to shop, and on my return trip from Italy, I was no different. I had finished my book, and I don’t yet own an e-reader. Thinking that the shops at Charles De Gaulle airport must sell books in English, I began my search, and was finally rewarded by finding an entire shelf of books written in my mother tongue. An elderly American couple joined me.

“How about that one?” the woman asked.

“I’ve read it,” the man said.

This conversation was repeated about ten times, and the man was starting to sound cranky. I couldn’t blame him. We were both faced with the prospect of traversing the Atlantic without a book. Most of the wife’s suggestions were thrillers or mysteries, so I handed him Eye of the Red Tsar by Sam Eastland.

“You might like this,” I said. “It’s historical fiction about the Russian revolution.”

“Oh, thank you!” The man rushed off to buy it. 

I’ve always wanted to be a librarian.