Plain Brown Wrapper

by Law Hamilton

“A plain, brown wrapper?” she asked while sitting down and rearranging her bags onto her lap as she sat down.

“What would people think?  You know my small town.”  The two women in their fifties had been friends since their kids were in grade school.  The first one on the train always saved a seat for the other.  “I just want to keep up with the popular culture, and not be the subject of raised eyebrows, for reading a novel.”

“But really, you look like you are reading you children’s school book,” the second woman added while trying to get the lid on her travel cup to deliver a drop of coffee.  

“Did you want to borrow it, when I have finished it?  This is getting interesting, I may read the second.”

A hacking sound is made by the woman who just got a gulp of her coffee.  “Agh - are you serious?”

“I always finish the books, even if it is not to my liking,” replied the first.  “But this whole story is taking three books to tell.  Some parts I just skim.”

“But why not a more elegant cover, maybe a classic - Moby Dick?”

They both stop and just look at each other for a long pregnant pause, before their peals of laughter cause other commuters to peer over newspapers and glasses.

“Yes, that would be more discrete.”  The first woman places a bookmark and snaps the  novel shut, hiding it in an oversized purse.