Selma came to the book-club meeting carrying a book without a single folded page. When it was her turn to speak, she said she hadn't read it. After eye surgery, small print quickly caused pain, and no audio edition existed. She didn't want the others guessing why she was quiet. The librarian, Boris, offered to make the next selection available in larger print, then continued the discussion without pity.
The following week, she found him recording the first chapter of the same book. He was doing it for a small group of members who struggled to read, with permission arranged from the publisher. He stopped the recording every time he sneezed. Selma suggested that she edit the pauses and mark mistakes. Before retirement, she had worked in radio production. Boris immediately moved her chair beside the computer, visibly pleased to have someone who knew more than he did.
They worked on Thursdays after closing. Boris read too quickly when he became excited, and Selma stopped him by tapping her pencil. In one chapter, the hero proposed so awkwardly that they had to record it five times because they kept laughing. Boris said he would probably be worse. Selma told him there was no competition, then noticed that he had stopped turning the page.
He had been widowed for six years. She had divorced long ago, without wanting to spend the rest of her life explaining why. Their conversations gradually moved beyond the book, but Boris never asked whether she needed company home until she requested it herself one rainy evening. He held the umbrella too high, like someone who had walked alone for a long time. Selma lowered his arm and moved close enough for them both to stay dry.
When her sight improved, she announced that she could read ordinary print again. Boris was delighted, then abruptly quiet. At the next recording session, he had prepared a certificate thanking her for her help. Selma read it and asked whether it meant dismissal. He looked confused. "I thought you wouldn't need to come anymore." She replied that she had never needed to. She left the certificate on the table and suggested dinner after the final chapter.
They finished the book at nine twenty. In the restaurant, Boris didn't know where to put the headphones he had accidentally brought around his neck. Selma laid them beside her bag. She told him about a trip she was planning, and he discussed the cottage he wanted to sell. Neither offered to abandon their plans. When dessert arrived, he asked her to read the name he didn't understand. She read it aloud, slowly, enjoying his smile.