Nathan Lamont was the type of guy who counted his change and checked bus schedules.

Nathan liked books. He liked having them more than reading them. But he always had a few on the go. Science fiction stuff, he liked thinking about the future. He usually finished what he started. Nathan needed a new bookshelf. He wanted something low to go in front of the window. Nathan worked at city hall in the correspondence department. He spent his nine to fives reading emails and letters from citizens and sending them to the right people in city hall. He mostly got complaints about parking tickets.

He couldn’t browse the internet at work. They monitored you. To increase productivity. It worked. People didn’t spend their days chatting and poking around Facebook.

You could feel the seasons changing today. He walked from the bus stop to his apartment with his jacket unzipped. When he got home he saw the stack of books on the floor next to his desk and went on Craigslist to find a bookcase.

Rachel Morgan was the type of girl that never knew where her keys were and never checked the weather forecast.

Rachel was leaving for South America in a week. She had been fired from her job at a restaurant and quit her job as receptionist at a law firm. She was ready to leave. She’d been drifting in her years after college. Confused and distracted by the endless options that presented themselves, discouraged by the intense competition for any job that mildly excited her. Her good looks had taken her as far as they could. She wanted to be a filmmaker but didn’t have the talent or the commitment to make it happen. Three weeks ago she signed up for Habitat for Humanity. She was selling all her furniture and packing up her clothes. She wanted a fresh start. She packed up her books in three boxes. She posted an ad on Craigslist; she included a picture.

Nathan saw the ad. The bookcase looked good it was pretty much what he wanted. He really wanted black but this one was tan. It was only $45. It would do. He replied to the ad.

Hey, I’m really interested in the bookshelf. Would be able to pick up anytime in the evenings. Let me know when I could come over and see it. My number is 622-647-7834.
Thanks,
Nathan

Rachel went out to meet some friends for dinner. They were going to one of those restaurants that used to be hip and hidden and is now swarming with yuppies. They ordered sangria and yam fries and hummus and pita. They sat on the patio under big heaters. It was warm enough to sit outside with a sweater without the heater but they preferred tank tops and the heater. They talked about work and boys and clothes. And politics, these were her smart friends.

Two months ago Rachel had split from Paul, her boyfriend of a year. It was an OK relationship. Never great. She was only 70% in to him from the beginning, but he was kind and present and available and she liked having someone to hangout with and have sex with. Paul was a graphic designer. He thought he was much more artistic than he actually was. It was a simple, uninspired breakup. No yelling or crying. He said OK left enough money to cover his half of the bill and walked out of the restaurant. He sent a friend to pick up his stuff from her place a week later. They didn’t even have a goodbye fuck. For the drama of the moment, she tried to seduce the friend when he came to pick up the stuff. He didn’t play along. They ordered another jug of sangria. The restaurant was busy for a Wednesday night.

Nathan went to the gym straight from work, came home, made some spaghetti for dinner drank one and half cans of beer ,watched a hockey game on TV then went to sleep. His team lost.

Rachel got home. She was tipsy. She had walked. She checked her email. One from her mom. One from a free online dating service she signed up for but never used. One from Craigslist. She put her computer to sleep and got ready for bed.

Nathan left his apartment in perfect time for the 8:27 bus. He got to work at 8:54. A little earlier than usual; traffic was light. Rachel slept until 11am. She got up slowly shuffled through the mess of her apartment, it looked like someone had ransacked her room. Her clothes were everywhere. She was in the messy process of packing, sorting the good from the bad the old from the new what would stay and what would go. She turned on her computer and put on some coffee. Coffee in pajamas and a tank top was her ideal state. That’s when she was at her best. Her favourite part of waking up in the morning with someone was walking around in her pj’s and drinking coffee together. That was real intimacy, more intimate than sex. Coffee in hand she checked her email. Nothing new since last night. Her mom wanted to know exactly when she was leaving and who was taking her to the airport. She replied to the guy from Craigslist.

Hey, Great. Come over tonight anytime between 6 and 8. I live at 1486 W.18th Ave. Apt 703. Buzzer 40.
Regards,
Rachel

She always got a shiver of fear when giving a Craigslist person her address. But, generally speaking, she trusted life.

Nathan’s day passed slowly. He had lunch with the guy who sits in the next cubicle. They talked about last nights hockey game. The guy thought they should trade the goalie. Nathan disagreed but didn’t say anything. They ate cheap paninis from a coffee shop nearby.

He got home and checked his email. He was planning on going to a movie tonight with one of his longtime friends, Dave, but he wanted the bookcase. He called Dave.

“Hey, Dave, it’s Nathan,”
“Hey man, what’s up?”
“Can we go to a later movie, I’ve got to go pick up a bookcase now.”
“Bookcase?”
“Craigslist,”
“Ah. I don’t know about later, I’ve got lots of school work.” Dave was in law school. “Papers. Exams. But give me a call later we’ll see where I’m at.”
“Cool. Talk to you soon.”

Nathan shut his cell phone and replied to the email. He quickly ate some of the leftover spaghetti and then hopped on his bike.

It was an easy bike ride. Only one hill. He broke a faint sweat. He found the apartment building. He locked up his bike. He buzzed 40.

“Hello,” crackled the voice.
“Hi. Um. It’s Nathan the guy from Craigslist. For the bookcase.”
“Oh. Hey. Come on up. 703.”

The door buzzed and he got in the elevator. The elevator seemed new. The building was probably forty years old. It had the distinct smell of many peoples lives accumulating in the halls over the years.

He knocked. Rachel opened the door. She was wearing tight jeans and a t-shirt with the logo of the CIA on the front. Her blond hair was in a pony tail.

“Hi,” she said.

Nathan’s eyes were drawn to her round breasts pressing through the emblem. He looked up at her.

“Hey, thanks for arranging this so quickly, I just really need a bookshelf, I’ve got all these books on the floor and I want them on a shelf. Need to keep things orderly and I saw your ad and thought your bookcase would work even though I wanted black but tan will do, nothing’s perfect you know, in life and stuff. ”

Nathan rambles when he’s nervous. He caught himself and stopped talking.

“Yeah, for sure, I know what you mean. Sorry it’s so messy. Follow me.” She led him through the narrow hall of the apartment and in to the living room. There was stuff everywhere.

“I’m leaving the country for a while. Moving out of here. Selling my stuff.”
“Where you going?”
“South America. Habitat for Humanity.”
“Oh, cool. I’ve always wanted to do something like that.”
“Why haven’t you?” She bent down to move some stuff out of the way. Nathan noticed a tattoo of a lotus flower on her lower back and some very small underwear.
“I’m not sure. I guess I just like my life here. Consistency.”
“Ah, you’re one of those guys.”
“What guys?”
“A steady eddie. I’m sure you have a stable job too.”
“Yeah. Work for the city.”
“Cool. Public service. I like that.”
“It’s pretty boring stuff.”

She pointed to the naked bookcase.

“Well, here it is.”

The bookshelf sat there empty.

“Looks just like the picture, hahaha,” Nathan was one of those people that laughed at his own jokes. Rachel barely chuckled. She didn’t get people who laughed at their own jokes.

“So, you want to take it?”
“Yeah, yeah. Here’s the money.” Nathan fished in his pocket for the cash. He handed her $50.
“Let me get some change.” She walked in to her bedroom. Hopping over a pile of clothes.

Nathan picked up a book at the top of the box. Outliers: The Story of Success. He’d heard of it. He read the back. He found these types of newsy books useless. By the time they came out they were outdated.

“Here ya go.” She handed him two toonies and a loonie.
“You read that?” She asked.
“Nah, just saw it here. You?”
“Read some of it. It was pretty interesting. Talked about how people become successful. A combination of luck and determination and skill. Pretty depressing.”
“Really? You think?”
“I mean, it seems like if you want to be successful, I mean world changingly successful, so many things out of your control have to align that it’s impossible.”
“Right. That does suck. What do you do?”
“I’m a filmmaker.”
“Oh, cool. So taking some time off between projects for charity work. That’s awesome.”
“Well. Sort of. I’ve only made some short films in school. Things haven’t really aligned for me.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Nathan empathized.
“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. Whatever, it’s just the way it goes. You need help out with that thing?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you. Have a great trip.”
“Thanks. Good luck.” She shut the door behind him. She didn’t know why she wished him good luck.

Nathan slid the bookcase in to the elevator. He unlocked his bike and awkwardly rested the bookshelf on the handle bars and walked the bike to the bus stop half a block away. He had forgotten to check the schedule. He wished he hadn’t sold his car. The bus arrived 7 minutes later. He put his bike on the rack and lugged the bookshelf on to the bus. He felt people staring at him, annoyed that it took him so long to board.

He stared out the window as the bus silently chugged through the city. It was one of those electric trollies that don’t make any noise and leave the bus hanging in an eerie stillness.

He pulled the bookshelf out of the elevator and stuck his key in the lock. Pushing through the door and hitting the light in a practiced, fluid, motion, he turned to drag his new acquisition in. The impression of Rachel flooded his mind. He heard her voice. He saw her pretty face. He smelled her delicate scent. He put the bookshelf under the window and started to place the books on it. The sun was quickly setting. His cell phone vibrated then rang…

It was Dave.

“Hey,”
“Hey Man,”
“How’s it going?”
“Good, good.,”
“You get your case?”
“Yeah, just filling it.”
“Cool. Cool. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it tonight. Got too much shit to do.”
“Alright. No worries. Let’s hook up on the weekend on something.”
“Yeah, sounds good. Sorry bud.”
“It’s cool. Good luck with your studying.”
“Thanks man. Talk to you soon.”
“Yeah. Bye.” He shut the phone.

He sat down at his desk. Tired from moving the bookshelf. His mind wandered and again lingered on Rachel. He opened his computer. He wanted to email her. He checked Facebook. Nothing interesting. He checked the New York Times. Nothing interesting. He checked his email. Nothing. He opened Rachel’s email. He pressed reply. He stared at the blinking cursor.

He wrote:

Hey, It’s Nathan, the bookshelf guy. Just wanted to say thanks again and that I hope things align for you. Have a great trip. If you want to get a coffee or something before you leave that’d be cool.
Cheers,
Regards,
Take Care,
Good luck,
Nathan

He pressed send.

“Are you sure you want to send this message without a Subject?” said the Internet.

“Fuck. Subject, I hate subjects.” He thought.

He wrote:
Hey
Hi
Thanks
Alignment

He pressed send.
“Your message has been sent,” said the Internet.

Rachel was watching TV, the third episode of the final season of Lost. An ad came on. She checked her email. She read Nathan’s email. She smiled, thought for a moment, brushed her hair out of her face and pressed delete.