Octopus Attack!

A woman climbs the sliding ladder by the shelf with books on sustainable living. She opts to stick around. The air seems, even if by the smallest of increments (a single molecule, less), cleaner — warmer, too. A bookseller comes rushing over, all chin and forehead, tells her she needs to get down; there are liability issues that have to be considered. The ladder is reserved for booksellers and booksellers alone. She thanks him for his concern, and says she is happy where she is, which strikes her as the truest thing she has said in weeks. To fit the cherry picker inside the store, the booksellers are forced to unhinge the doors. The fireman, in his basket, has only to flick the joystick with his finger to meet her height. He talks to her in a soothing, familiar way, and she knows he has been doing his job for a long time. She asks him what it is like to work so high up every day, in a basket no less, like a small kitten. He says he has never thought about it; no one has asked him that question before. He says he likes it, for the most part. It reminds him of sitting on his father’s shoulders as a boy. She asks him if he wants to stay, and he agrees. They have years to catch up on.