The Bookman


By Karen G. Anderson

The stranger at the bus stop held a tattered book with a faded pink-and-white dust jacket — a $950 first American edition of Winnie-the-Pooh. He’d marked his place with the business card of a Haight-Ashbury palmistry shop — the shop long closed, the proprietor now a Marin County realtor.

“Winnie-the-Pooh?” asked the little girl sitting beside him on the bench. The mother glanced up from her smartphone, frowned, and resumed texting. The man handed the child the book.


He waved as the child and her mother boarded the bus. Then he strolled off, tucking the worn business card into his wallet.

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