A nervous-appearing woman brought a large bag of books into the shop and disrespectfully – ya gotta respect the books, ma’am! – dumped them on the counter.
Without the usual greetings and small talk we share with most customers, she declared, “I have a lot of books on witchcraft in here that I want to get rid of…now! I don’t want anything for them; I just want to get rid of them!”
“Are you sure we can’t pay you for them?” I asked with concern, not wanting to take advantage of her, and willing to do with her what we do with others who bring us worthy books every day.
“No! No!” she said, glancing around apprehensively. “They were given to me and I wouldn’t feel right taking anything for them.”
She shoved the overflowing bag with the offending books across the counter at me and practically fled out our side door, nearly knocking over old, unsteady John Myers, coming in to get his fix of Louis L’Amours.
It was almost as though she felt that the books were cursed, as though she would also be damned if they were in her possession any longer.
We cleaned, priced, and shelved the books in New Age, putting a spell on them to sell fast to our many bewitched customers.