When 16, I dropped out of high school and went to work at the cafe attached to a bookstore at the old mill building recently rehabbed with shops.
It was very fancy for our town then and a woman from a very old family who attended the best college in New England owned the bookstore and cafe.
Had a great name and was well regarded and a draw to local booksy types and arm chair philosophers.
I was a child that had not been exposed to much or to many people. We were raised on a spot that was inhospitable to year round living and most often left there in solitary.
I was intimidated working there. Everyone seemed more worldly and grounded and capable.
But I worked hard and quietly and had a few favorite customers.
It is rare that I ever visit that bookstore over the years.
I go to the corner store that resides as an exterior attachment- but rarely go into the mill proper.
Today as I wait for cleaners to finish my filthy apartment- I went in to use the bathroom.
It smelled the same. The cafe is gone and filled with books.
There is a new bakery and seating area.
The interior of the mill hallways the same.
