Things That Are More Difficult Than Deciding What To Read

An old man stops walking when he sees me sitting on the patio of the cafe. He has a sun hat cinched tight to his chin. He leans forward, squinting at the cover of my book with his hands clasped behind his back like he is looking at a painting. I tilt it up toward his eyes silently. He says nothing, but holds a hand up as if to apologize for interrupting…