He Chose Her Over Me So I Chose Myself Chapter 11
Among my earliest customers was a man named Eli.
When he came to the attic to pick up a custom bookmark, his younger brother was with him. The boy had social anxiety and, once inside, kept his head down, staring only at the glass scraps on my table.
Eli didn’t answer for him. He just waited patiently.
After a long while, the boy pointed at a blue-green bookmark and said in a small voice, “Looks like the sea.”
“Then that’s the one.” I handed it to him, then found a few pieces of glass with their edges rounded smooth and gave those to him, too.
Eli smiled at me.
“Thank you. I work at the public library. If you’d like, I can leave your business cards in the arts section.”
The second time he came, he brought me an old book with a restored spine, one about the glasswork of Louis Comfort Tiffany.
“I saw his collection on your shelf,” he explained. “I thought you might like it.”
He didn’t call it a surprise, and he didn’t wait for me to thank him with more emotion than I felt. He simply set the book gently on a spot clear of glass dust.
Later, he would sometimes bring coffee, always remembering I took it without sugar. When my supplies were delivered downstairs, he helped carry them up, then sat quietly by the window and read, never interrupting my work.
His brother came once more, bringing me a little picture he’d made from broken glass. Beneath a crooked rainbow stood three people.
When I looked up, Eli was leaning against the doorframe, smiling.
Sunlight filtered through the glass beside him and landed on his shoulder.
My roommate, from her room, saw the whole thing and secretly sent me a *Go for it!* emoji.
I pretended not to see it and kept my head down, sorting lead came, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my mouth.