There we go again.
“Excuse me, where did you get that Neil Gaiman book?”
I blinked, momentarily brought out of my musings. The queue was hardly moving, although the cashiers up front were steadily punching numbers into their machines.
“Er… they’re sort of everywhere,” I said, then berated myself silently. Yeah, like that was helpful.
“So where did you get that one?”
“I picked mine up from, hmm, over there,” I replied, pointing vaguely to my nine o’clock, where, of course, mountains and mountains of books were located. “There’s probably one more Gaiman there.”
She thanked me and turned towards that direction, while I resumed peeking at other people’s purchases and mentally doing their calculations for them as well. What is there to do, really, when the people in front of you in a queue buy books by the boxfuls?
I was disappointed by the sore absence of Dragonlance and Forgotten Realm books, but for a while there, I was seriously contemplating if I should start collecting the Wheel of Time and The Dark is Rising series. There was also no Terry Pratchett nor Terry Goodkind; only tons of Terry Brooks to be found.
But all is well. I got what I wanted, at long last. Would still have preferred the one with the black cover, but for a thousand pages at RM10, this is really a steal.
Driving to this warehouse sale was almost a nostalgic trip of sorts, too, as my previous workplace – now with a fresh coat of paint and a big signboard bearing the name of a certain electrical appliances company – was just a street away. I remember the dust, trucks, lorries, potholes and all.
In the meantime, there is also another books warehouse sale going on down in town… dare I?
It’ll feel like it should.
Knock me over.
You know I’m shallow.