‘The difference between the two main parties has never been this great and the chasm that separates their world view never that deep. What’s going to happen next week, after the US election?’ I asked Camp who ambled in, deposited his coat over the chair and took a load off his feet. Must be tiring standing on your feet all day long I thought.

            ‘No matter who wins it will be chaos. If Trump wins, the groan of defeat will be heard all over the world. If Harris somehow squeaks in, the thumping and yelling, the lies and the shouts of anger from the MAGA crowd will be deafening.’

            ‘You think there will be violence? Will the defeated take up arms, smash their way into the news and TV screens into our homes?’

            ‘Well, the Trump crowd will not go quietly into the night. They will cry foul with their chief cheerleader the loudest. With Harris, she will be magnanimous, knowing there will be another day and she will have another chance in four years. What scares me is that windsock J.D. Vance, one cheeseburger and one heartbeat away from the presidency, should Trump somehow win this crazy contest.’

            ‘I’m almost afraid to watch,’ I said. ‘Maybe we’ll just tune in to another episode of ‘Murder in a small Town’, the L.R. Wright TV series that was filmed here last year. It shows up Gibsons just like it is and we like the main characters.’

            ‘Yeah, I haven’t had a chance to watch. Puts our little town on the map. Should be good for tourism. I could sure use more customers at the store.’

            We both looked out at the grey, blustery water for a beat.

            ‘I have a confession to make,’ I said, hoping that Camp would be easy on me.

            ‘What is it? Spit it out.’

            ‘I bought a Kobo today and joined the library.’

            Camp looked at me silently, tapping the table with two fingers in time to Warren Zevon’s Werewolves of London song. It was after all Halloween. I waited.

            ‘Nothing beats the feel and heft of a good book,’ Camp said.

            ‘I will still come in and buy books from you,’ I said. ‘It’s for travelling, you know.’

            “It’s like drinking beer or wine from a can. Nothing beats a proper glass.’

            ‘I know, I agree. It’s just for convenience. That way I don’t have to shlepp fat travel books in my suitcase and every book in the world will be at my fingertips.’

            ‘Are you saying, books and bookstores are an anachronism, on the way out like Kodak film and dinosaurs?’

            ‘No, no, not at all. It’s just, you know, like a computer. I used to have a typewriter and before that hand written journals. In fact, it’s an addition to the way people read books. It’s a tool, a modern instrument to access books.’

            ‘You mean like an electric drill instead of a screw driver, a blender instead of a mortar and pestle, a lightbulb instead of a candle?’

            ‘Yeah, something like that. Maybe it’s not the right metaphor. It’s more than a toy and less than a tool. I just thought I’d tell you and hope you wouldn’t get mad at me.’

            Camp laughed. ‘For a moment there you had true fear in your eyes. I enjoyed that moment. I think it’s great you got a Kobo. I have a Kindle myself and it comes in handy for research on new books. It’s just a gizmo. Just make sure it’s charged. Like a Tesla, without power it’s just a useless lump.’

            ‘Vicky came by with two fresh brews. Today she was a cat with a pug nose, whiskers and a black tail. ‘They’re on the house. You two win for most original costume. Statler and Waldorf is it? The two old guys in the Muppets.’

            We both looked at her uncomprehending but happy for the free drinks.