Books for Meshugeners

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't call this weekend, okay?"

The stress of being out and about on the crowded streets of New York was enough distraction that he'd accidentally answered a phone call from his mother. A neighbor had recommended a nearby hole-in-the-wall bookstore to him. It was a good deal closer than his usual store, but it still meant a mid-day trek through this den of idiots they called a city.

"Oh, I'm not worried about me, dear. I'm only your mother. It's my job to slave over your upbringing, only to be abandoned in my old age! Feh! I was just worried about you, Mal."

Mal rolled his eyes. "Really, I've been busy. My boss is giving me a lot of work."

"I don't like this man. From what I've heard of him-"

"Ma, I don't tell you anything about my boss."

"That's mostly what I don't like. This job is no good, mark my words. Why couldn't you work with Mr. Beram at the Universtiy? Now he's a real mentsh. Not like these shady government workers!"

"It's a good job, Ma!"

"You and your father," she continued as if he'd said nothing. "You'll work yourselves to a coronary! You know he's taken on another class? At his age! He comes home some days, he could just plotz."

She was getting onto the topic of health, and if he let her go there, he'd never get rid of her. "Look, Ma, I gotta get on the subway, there's no service. Nu? I can't hear you. The darn schlocky phones, you know-huh?" He hung up and sighed, just as he got to the book store.

A bell chimed when he walked in the door. The place wasn't too big, but the walls were packed with books. A lot of fiction, which wasn't really his favorite, but the non-fiction wasn't too shabby size-wise. A large group of children was gathered on the floor in the back corner, around a red-head with a book in her hands. Harry Potter. Mal couldn't help but smile. He'd had a tutor that read those books with him as a kid.

He made his way over to the reading area and leaned against a wall behind the kids.