Mrs Tremblay
by Diane · 18 June 2026 · Short Stories
Mrs Tremblay has come every Tuesday at 2:15 for 19 years. Always one novel, one non-fiction, never a recommendation. Never the same book twice. Diane doesn't know what she thinks of them, why Tuesdays, whether she has family. That's a lot of reading. That's a life she knows nothing about.
Mrs Tremblay comes every Tuesday at two-fifteen. She has come every Tuesday at two-fifteen for as long as I've worked here, which is nineteen years. She takes out two books a week — always one novel, always one non-fiction — returns them the following Tuesday, and has never in nineteen years taken a recommendation from me.
I offered once, in my first year. She gave me a look I've since learned to recognise: the look of someone who has a system and does not require it to be improved. I haven't offered since.
What I don't know: what she thinks of the books, whether she finishes them, why Tuesdays specifically, whether she has family, what she does the other six days of the week. What I know: she comes every Tuesday, she takes one of each, she says bonjour and merci and nothing else, and in nineteen years she has never once taken out the same book twice. That's a lot of reading. That's a life I know nothing about.
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