Judy rubbed her left hip, complaining that it ached, although she claimed she wasn’t getting old. I absorbed Jim’s information, which he had shared with me prior to Judy’s complaints.
Jim had said, “You can drive Judy home and share some quality time with her. I’m going to stay in town and visit The Strange.”
I understood. Jim loved The Strange in Erie, a well-known bookstore in the tristate area. Even though the world’s readers were being influenced by e-books, particularly the k****e, The Strange was still holding strong in sales. To my knowledge, and Jim’s, wealthy patrons had made donations to keep the establishment open, supporting the arts. Jim could get lost for hours in that three-story Victorian on Edinboro Way. And there he would meet other writers, book collectors, and bizarre
