Compared to the bustling commercial areas, the old bookstore hidden in the old alley and the adjacent bakery are more suitable for nurturing slowly developing feelings. The ink fragrance mingled with the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread, without the rush of time, only the rustling sound of flipping books and the tinkling sound of the bread being baked, can allow two people to gradually get closer in the quiet moments of their interaction.
Choose a weekend morning to set off. Inform the other person in advance to wear comfortable shoes – the cobblestone roads in the old alley are uneven and it takes a while to reach the destination. First, turn into the bakery at the corner. As soon as you open the door, you are enveloped by the warm aroma of wheat. Pointing at the croissants in the glass display case, you say, “The croissants in this bakery are super crispy, with bits falling off.” Then ask the clerk to make two for you, and also choose a cinnamon roll sprinkled with frosting. “You said last time that you prefer sweet flavors, and this one should suit your taste.”
With a steaming loaf of bread in hand, I walked into the old bookstore next door. The owner was sitting behind the cash register, flipping through books. He looked up, smiled and nodded. The bookstore was not large, with bookshelves stretching from the floor to the ceiling. Sunlight streamed through the street-facing glass window, casting slanted shadows on the bookshelves. I walked confidently to the literature section, pulled out a yellowed poetry collection, “The last time I came here, there was a poem about spring in it that was extremely interesting,” and handed it to him. My fingertip accidentally touched his hand, and both of us froze for a moment, then smiled and looked away.
Find a small table by the window and sit down. First, break the croissants into small pieces and hand them to him. “Try it quickly, it’s still warm.” He takes a bite and the crispy crust falls onto the table. “It’s really super crispy! It’s even better than the ones I’ve eaten before.” You smile and help him wipe the crumbs off his mouth. Then, you open the poetry collection and start reading the poem about spring. Your voice is soft, mixed with the sweet aroma coming from the bakery. When you come across an interesting sentence, he leans over to look at it too, with his shoulders touching yours. The sunlight falls on the pages, and even the air becomes soft.
Walking to the far corner of the bookstore, I found a box piled with old magazines. You took out a photography magazine from the last century and pointed at the old street on the cover, saying, “I visited this place last week. The same type of street lamps are still there.” He picked up a comic book. “I loved reading this when I was a child. Later, I moved and lost it.” He simply bought both of them and exchanged them, putting them in each other’s bags. “From now on, when you see this, you’ll be able to remember that we visited this old bookstore together today.”
As it was getting close to noon, the bakery wafted the aroma of freshly baked toast. You left the bookstore and walked into the bakery to buy a bag of sliced toast. The owner smiled and said, “Just freshly baked. It’s perfect for breakfast when you take it home.” Carrying the toast and your old books, you walked through the old alley. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting a patchwork of shadows. You said, “Next time, you can come earlier. This bakery only has cranberry bread in the morning.” He nodded. “Next time, we can bring a picnic blanket and have it in the small park at the end of the alley. There’s a huge sycamore tree there.”
When saying goodbye, he handed you that comic book and said, “Let me show you first. After you finish reading, we’ll switch and read it together.” You put the poetry collection in his hand and said, “There’s a piece of ginkgo leaf inside. I picked it when I came to the bookstore last time.” There was no forced hug. He just smiled and said, “See you next time.” But the ink and wheat scents from the old alley had already quietly hidden the fluttering emotions in both of their hearts.
The beauty of having an appointment with an old bookstore and a bakery is not in any particularly elaborate arrangement, but rather in the slow-paced interaction where one can see the truest selves of the other – the surprised look when discovering an old comic, the contented look when enjoying a slice of sweet bread, and the serious look while flipping through the pages. These small moments, like pieces of a puzzle, gradually come together to form each other’s outlines, allowing the heart to quietly sprout and grow in the aroma of ink and wheat.