Sunshine brushes the shoulders of the bespectacled man who's lost in the latest Atlantic Monthly.
He slouches a bit in the dark leather chair, shirt sleeves rolled up, elbows resting on its arms as he thumbs page after page. Next to the magazine section is a tiny cafe where patrons sip cappuccino, chat quietly and read. I just feel at home here. Some peruse the books, many offered at discount, while sitting on chairs and other furniture, or drinking Starbucks coffee next door. Others slip into the adjoining compact disc and computer software shops.