Filtered Warmth and Comfort

Quarter to eight on a Friday Night at Borders Books is not exactly over-crowded, but its not a barren wasteland either. The precisely measured and evenly spaced aisles, approximately three and a half feet wide, echo with the swish of turned pages and the pad of shoe-clad feet on grainy grey carpet flooring. It's a loud type of quiet,the kind that's seems so still that every noise is magnified to about five times it's natural volume. A cell phone goes off in the next aisle over and I nearly have a coronary, my heart doing flip-flops in time with “Fur Elise”. I lean back against a shelving unit and trail my finger along the seemingly-wood brim, feeling the tiny imperfections in the plastic lamination. The lights are all filtered with special tints to appear warmer and the furniture falsely aged with dyes and stain-resistant coating. The ceilings are raised higher than most book stores, sending any sound, whispered or belted, reverberating back like yodels across the Andes mountains.

I amble slowly through the sections until I come across a familiar heading: Young Adult, the only section set up to be an anomaly among the rigidly spaced order of the aisles. The Young Adult section is a square in the middle of the store with another of those laminated pine tables displaying newly released novels, most of which pertaining in some way to vampires. Underneath the table multiple piles of the same type of books are stacked precariously upon one another, some how all managing to show just enough of their title to peak the interest a girl about my age wearing a jacket emblazoned with a Raiders logo. Looking around I note quite a few books with black, red, white, or pink being the dominant color choices. They contrast with the two by three foot posters hung around the store sporting Border's latest thirty percent sale.

Towards the back of Borders is the section with the most color difference, the Children's section. Plywood signs and plastic banners hang from the ceiling, each painted with saturated primary colors and cartoon figures. Despite the metamorphosis of the walls from brown to pale green, the gray industrialized carpet invades the bright look and feel of the Children's section. It is a subtle reminder, a yellow brick road, linking the rows of novels featuring talking cats and owls to the rest of the store. It is the same carpet that was designed to be too think so as to muffle the harsh clomping of feet. The armchairs that previously rested at the ends of each shelf have dissipated in number, leaving only a few in the history section and Cafe. They have been replaced over the years by cardboard advertisments and stand alone book shelves.

Hungry and thirty, customers break from their bargain shopping and head for the cafe in the corner of the store opposite the register. Orders are placed at the counter which is shielded by a series of two-foot tall glass panels set up at eye level. I've pondered on a many a visit the purpose of these panels, whether they're there for the customers sake or the foods. Boots click on the black and tan tiled floor of the cafe as people murmur and discuss their chosen books. The noises are a babbling brook lulling me into a state of peacefulness. The strong scent of coffee fills the air. From behind the granite counter-top the assistant manager calls out that my order is ready. I pick my way through the haphazardly placed tables and chairs and wave away the apologies of two boys as they race past me. The strong scent of coffee simmers above the tables laden with piles of abandoned books. I reach for my steaming hot chocolate just as a pen 'clicks' in the corner of the cafe. Turning, I catch sight of a woman, her eyes hidden behind cracked mirror-like black frames, wearing a black turtleneck sweater, black jeans, and black shoes. Her hand flashes across her non-exhistent notepad, in my mind, detailing my excursion across the space that is filled to the brim with the scent of strong coffee.

After purchasing my chosen books I stop and take one last look at the store before me. The front tables and shelves all display the most purchased and most talked about books, some with carboard accompaniments to aid in the sale. There's an entire table devoted to nik-nak merchandise, most of it related to the most recent children's movie. Beyond that is a shelf of home décor and calenders, all of which are complimentary to the laminated pine of the shelves. Upon calculation I find that half of the store are things other than books. From where I stand I can see a pair of legs pretruding from the youn adult section. I know whoever they belong to must be seated on the floor, because the armchairs from that section were removed last May.

-Katie