Speaker 1: Welcome to Bedtime Stories for grown ups, in which nothing
Speaker 1: much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep.
Speaker 1: I'm Catherine Nikolay. I write and read all the stories
Speaker 1: you hear. A Nothing Much Happens audio engineering is by
Speaker 1: Bob Wwittershine. If you're looking for more cozy relaxation in
Speaker 1: your life, my book, also called Nothing Much Happens, is
Speaker 1: available now wherever books are sold. Let me say something
Speaker 1: about how to use this podcast. I'm about to tell
Speaker 1: you a bedtime story. It's a simple story, without much action,
Speaker 1: but full of relaxing detail. The story is like a nest,
Speaker 1: and we're enticing your fluttering mind to settle down into it.
Speaker 1: I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little
Speaker 1: bit slower the second time through. If you find yourself
Speaker 1: still awake at the end of the first or second telling,
Speaker 1: don't worry. Relax. Take your mind back to the beginning
Speaker 1: of the story and walk yourself back through the details
Speaker 1: that you remember, especially any bit that felt particularly cozy.
Speaker 1: You're training your brain and body to wind down, and
Speaker 1: the more often you do it, the faster you will
Speaker 1: fall asleep. So I have a bit of patience at
Speaker 1: the beginning. Now, it's time to turn off the light
Speaker 1: and put away anything you've been working on or looking at.
Speaker 1: Take some time to snuggle yourself down into your preferred
Speaker 1: sleeping position. Make all the adjustments you need to to
Speaker 1: feel your body relaxing into your bed. We're creating a
Speaker 1: queue for your body and brain, and the signal is
Speaker 1: it's time for sleep. Now, let's take a deep breath
Speaker 1: in through the nose and then a soft sigh from
Speaker 1: the mouth. Do that one more time, in and out. Good.
Speaker 1: Our story tonight is called Closing up Shop, and it's
Speaker 1: a story about a bookshop at the end of the day.
Speaker 1: Love Grossman wrote in The Magician's Land it didn't matter
Speaker 1: where you were. If you were in a room full
Speaker 1: of books, you were at least halfway home. If that
Speaker 1: feels true to you, then this story is for you.
Speaker 1: Beyond the friendliness of the company of books, this story
Speaker 1: is also about being in a safe place and looking
Speaker 1: out from it at one's leisure and lovely feeling of
Speaker 1: anticipating something nice. Closing up Shop, it was just a
Speaker 1: few minutes till six, when the shop was empty. I
Speaker 1: was tidying up the shelves, pushing the books into their
Speaker 1: neat rows, and switching round the ones that had gotten
Speaker 1: into the wrong spots. I cleared up the counter, setting
Speaker 1: a stack of book marks neatly by the register, unlocked it.
Speaker 1: Our little shop had been busy today, but now it
Speaker 1: was finally empty and time to flip the open sign
Speaker 1: to close. It was a small shop on a busy
Speaker 1: downtown street, in an old building with wide plank wood floors,
Speaker 1: tall coved ceilings, and old wrought iron chandeliers. We had
Speaker 1: a long counter along one wall that had been there
Speaker 1: since the place was a hardware store a few generations back,
Speaker 1: and a wall of windows looking out to the street.
Speaker 1: We had in our little place a few cozy reading
Speaker 1: nooks with stacks of pillows and illustrations pinned to the walls.
Speaker 1: You could even bring a cup of coffee in if
Speaker 1: you promised to be careful, and we had several customers
Speaker 1: spent their lunch hour quietly sipping and turning pages, and
Speaker 1: sometimes taking surreptitious bites out of sandwiches or apples from
Speaker 1: their pockets. We didn't mind. They loved books. That was
Speaker 1: good enough for us. One of the knooks was set
Speaker 1: into the front window of the shop. A sort of
Speaker 1: booth with a wood paneled top, so you could hide
Speaker 1: of it but still look out and watch people on
Speaker 1: the street coming and going. There were maps in there
Speaker 1: that could be pulled down from its ceiling and stared
Speaker 1: at somewhere of Africa and Europe and cities in Japan.
Speaker 1: But there was also a map of Middle Earth, an
Speaker 1: hundred acre woods, and one hand drawn attempt at fillery.
Speaker 1: You know you've picked up a good book if there
Speaker 1: is a map in the front of it. It was
Speaker 1: generally agreed upon by staff and clientele that this was
Speaker 1: the best seat in the house, and although it was
Speaker 1: rarely empty, folks respected its specialness. I didn't hover, waiting
Speaker 1: to claim it. First. I locked the back door, an old,
Speaker 1: heavy wooden door that was as old as the building,
Speaker 1: with panels and a few panes of wavy glass. I
Speaker 1: turned the lock and pulled the shade down. I turned
Speaker 1: off the lights through the back hall and restrooms, pulled
Speaker 1: the office door shut, and went to the front door.
Speaker 1: It was thick and heavy too, but it had a
Speaker 1: screen door that we used whenever it was warm enough,
Speaker 1: so that a bit of fresh air mixed with the
Speaker 1: scent of the books. As I closed them up and
Speaker 1: slid the bolt. I smiled up at the bell above.
Speaker 1: I loved to hear it ring in the morning as
Speaker 1: my first customers came in, but I liked closing up
Speaker 1: at night, knowing it wouldn't ring again for a bit.
Speaker 1: I stood leaning against the door for a while. This
Speaker 1: was a nice time of day for people watching, and
Speaker 1: the spring sunlight was making them blink a smile on
Speaker 1: their way home from work and school. The shop was
Speaker 1: quiet while I watched. We didn't play music because we
Speaker 1: thought of ourselves as more of a library than a
Speaker 1: meeting place with books, so all I heard was the
Speaker 1: clock ticking and the muffled sounds from the street. Admittedly,
Speaker 1: I was making this moment last a bit. I was
Speaker 1: making myself wait. My loved selling books, being surrounded with them,
Speaker 1: and talking about them, but I also loved being alone
Speaker 1: and reading, and at the end of the day, that's
Speaker 1: what I did. So I was enjoying the anticipation as
Speaker 1: I walked back to the small, cluttered office, which had
Speaker 1: an electric kettle and some mugs and a couple of
Speaker 1: cookies that a customer had brought me that day after
Speaker 1: we had spent an hour picking out a cookbook together
Speaker 1: the week before. I flicked the switch on the kettle
Speaker 1: and pushed the boxes of tea around, finally choosing a
Speaker 1: box of cinnamon chie. The office had a tiny fridge
Speaker 1: in the corner, and I kept some almond milk in there,
Speaker 1: which everybody used liberally and nobody replaced. But I just
Speaker 1: bought more. I stirred some sugar into the milky tea
Speaker 1: and picked up my packet of cookies and my book,
Speaker 1: and went to the window seat. I was about to
Speaker 1: begin the second book of a series. I'd loved the
Speaker 1: first book and waited for over a year for the
Speaker 1: volume that was now in my hand. You can only
Speaker 1: read a great book for the first time once, so
Speaker 1: I was leaning into the anticipation. I took my time
Speaker 1: settling in. I had to find the right spot for
Speaker 1: my tea and set the pillows up at my back.
Speaker 1: I pushed off my shoes and stretched my legs out
Speaker 1: long over the seat. I sipped my tea and cut
Speaker 1: the window for a while longer. I set my cookies
Speaker 1: out beside me and drew a slow, deep breath in.
Speaker 1: I sided out and opened my book, closing up shop.
Speaker 1: It was just a few minutes till six, and the
Speaker 1: shop was empty. I was tidying up the shelves, pushing
Speaker 1: the books into their neat rows, and switching round the
Speaker 1: ones that had gotten into the wrong spots. I cleared
Speaker 1: up the counter, setting a stack of book marks neatly
Speaker 1: by the register, and locked it. Our little shop had
Speaker 1: been busy to day, but now it was finally empty
Speaker 1: and time to flip the open sign to close. It
Speaker 1: was a small shop on a busy down town street,
Speaker 1: in an old building with wide plank wood floors, tall
Speaker 1: coved ceilings, and old wrought iron chandeliers. We had a
Speaker 1: long counter along one wall that had been there since
Speaker 1: the place was a hardware store a few generations back,
Speaker 1: and a wall of windows looking out to the street.
Speaker 1: We had in our little place a few cozy reading
Speaker 1: nooks with stacks of pillows and illustrations pinned to the walls.
Speaker 1: You could even bring a cup of coffee in if
Speaker 1: you promised to be careful, and we had several customers
Speaker 1: who spent their lunch hours quietly sipping and turning pages,
Speaker 1: and sometimes taking surreptitious bites out of sandwiches or apples
Speaker 1: from their pockets. We didn't mind they loved books. That
Speaker 1: was good enough for us. One of the nooks was
Speaker 1: set into the front window of the shop, a sort
Speaker 1: of booth with a wood paneled top, so that you
Speaker 1: could hide a bit but still look out and watch
Speaker 1: people on the street coming and going. There were maps
Speaker 1: in there that could be pulled down from its ceiling
Speaker 1: and stared at. Some were of Africa and Europe, and
Speaker 1: cities in Japan, but there was also a map of
Speaker 1: Middle Earth and the hundred Acre Woods, and one hand
Speaker 1: drawn attempt at Phillery. You know you've picked up a
Speaker 1: good book if there is a map in the front
Speaker 1: of it. It was generally agreed upon by staff and
Speaker 1: clientele that this was the best seat in the house,
Speaker 1: and although it was rarely empty, folks respected its specialness
Speaker 1: and didn't hover waiting to claim it. First. I locked
Speaker 1: the back door, an old, heavy wooden door that was
Speaker 1: as old as the building, with panels and a few
Speaker 1: panes of wavy glass. I turned the lock and pulled
Speaker 1: the shade down. I turned off the lights through the
Speaker 1: back hall and restrooms, pulled the office door shut, and
Speaker 1: went to the front door. It was thick and heavy too,
Speaker 1: but it had a screen door that we used whenever
Speaker 1: it was warm enough, so that a bit of fresh
Speaker 1: air mixed with the scent of the books. As I
Speaker 1: closed them up and slid the bolt, I smiled up
Speaker 1: at the bell above. I loved to hear it ring
Speaker 1: in the morning as my first customers came in, but
Speaker 1: I liked closing up at night, knowing it wouldn't ring
Speaker 1: again for a bit. I stood leaning against the door
Speaker 1: for a while. This was a nice time of day
Speaker 1: for people watching, and the spring sun was making them
Speaker 1: blink and smile on their way home from work and school.
Speaker 1: The shop was quiet while I watched. We didn't play
Speaker 1: music because we thought of ourselves. It's more of a
Speaker 1: library than a meeting place with books, so all I
Speaker 1: heard was the clock ticking and the muffled sounds from
Speaker 1: the street. Admittedly, I was making this moment last a bit.
Speaker 1: I was making myself wait. I loved selling books, being
Speaker 1: surrounded with them, and talking about them, but I also
Speaker 1: loved being alone and reading, and at the end of
Speaker 1: the day, that's what I did. So I was enjoying
Speaker 1: the anticipation, and I walked back to the small, clattered office,
Speaker 1: which had an electric kettle and some mugs and a
Speaker 1: couple of cookies that a customer had brought me after
Speaker 1: we had spent an hour picking out a cookbook together
Speaker 1: the week before. I flicked the switch on the kettle
Speaker 1: and pushed the boxes of tea around, finally choosing a
Speaker 1: box of cinnamon chi. The office had a tiny fridge
Speaker 1: in the corner, and I kept some almond milk in there,
Speaker 1: which everybody used liberally and nobody replaced, but I just
Speaker 1: bought more. I stirred some sugar into the milky tea
Speaker 1: and picked up my packet of cookies and my book
Speaker 1: and went to the window seat. I was about to
Speaker 1: begin the second book of a series I loved the
Speaker 1: first one and waited for over a year for the
Speaker 1: volume that was now in my hand. You can only
Speaker 1: read a great book for the first time once, so
Speaker 1: I was leaning into the anticipation. I took my time
Speaker 1: settling in. I had to find the right spot for
Speaker 1: my tea and set the pillows up at my back.
Speaker 1: I pushed off my shoes and stretched my legs out
Speaker 1: long over the seat. I sipped and looked out the
Speaker 1: window for a while longer. I set my cookies out
Speaker 1: beside me and drew a slow, deep breath in, I
Speaker 1: sided out and opened my book, Sweet Dreams.