“Come on, make your mind up. It was you who came in here to buy a book. I’ve got two.”
Looking at them I presumed that they were mother and daughter, the former indeed with two books beneath her arm, looking a little exasperated if not impatient; the latter indecisive.
Mother picked up a paperback from the display table. “Oh, this is a good one. The Colour Purple. They made a film out of it. It’s about racism.” Now she was the one who appeared indecisive. “Actually, I think it might be too much for a fourteen-year-old. You might want to read it when you’re older.”
“I think I’ve seen the film,” replied the daughter, “With Whoopi Goldberg?”
“That’s right.” Sounding surprised.
“I liked her in Ghost.” She cast her young eye to take in the shelved multiverse. “Is there a book of that?”