I had bid for the golem pair, when I saw them at the exhibition.

They were strong and durable but humorless. They helped me move in the book shelves during the first days of the store. There was no rent to be paid in the abandoned half-demolished building. The master-tenant was afraid of the golems.

Their bald heads and twisted faces scared him the most.

"They love books" I tried assuring the landlord. He left me the keys and left in a pale panicked hurry. Whoever was left could run on whatever power that surged through daily from the excess points outside the torn neighborhood. Pretty much left alone except for the customers. Into the second half of the week, the pair helped me bring in the books from the warehouse. Dead grandfather was taking back the storage hall. "it's time to start writing your books." He said at the wreathing hour.

It was time for me to move out.

On the fifth day, my sleeping and resting furniture came, with the small eating table and an outmoded foot massaging sex doll. The golems helped arrange the books over the weekend. I imprisoned myself in the store like a busy god, not even resting on the Sabbath.

The store sign was coming in on the ninth. I had to be ready.