Scotty Biggs lived his life like most people. He lived in New York, in a small apartment above a little bodega that one of his friends still owns. His routine was familiar: wake up too early, make breakfast, hit the gym, work, go home, repeat. His friends called him Mr. Big as a joke. Scotty was of average height, with an average job at the public library, and less than average luck. Most people found him distant, but those who knew him saw the warmth he struggled to express. The truth was, he was too afraid to talk to anyone, even though he wanted to. And his biggest fear was regretting the way he lived.
He met Emily Grant on a particularly slow Tuesday. He was returning a few rented books to their shelves—nothing too interesting, mostly authors he’d never heard of, except for one: ‘Frankenstein’ by Mary Shelley. He’d heard of it before—who hadn’t?—but never thought to read it himself. Maybe it was a sign. He flicked through the preface, walking back to the front counter.
Rain tapped gently against the glass at the front of the library as a woman in a brown raincoat slipped inside, shaking droplets from her hair and scanning the aisles as if searching for refuge. Scotty looked up, pulled from his reading, and watched her step uncertainly toward the desk. "Looking for something or just browsing?" he asked, his voice quieter than he intended. She jumped slightly, clearly not expecting company. "Oh! Hi. Um, are there any good sci-fi books you’d recommend?" Her smile was quick, but genuine.
Scotty glanced down at the battered copy of Frankenstein in his hand and offered it hesitantly. "Uh, I think this is the original." Her lips twitched in a half-smile. "Frankenstein? I haven’t read this since high school." Scotty handed over the book, suddenly aware of his own uncertainty. "It’s all yours," he said, his voice faltering. She tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, tucking the book under her arm. "I’m Emily, by the way," she offered. Her openness shook Scotty.
He blinked at her, caught off guard by her warmth. Most people found him distant, but something about Emily made him want to try. “There’s a cafe upstairs…good pie. You look like you could use a pick-me-up.” Scotty slipped into self-conscious thought as an awkward silence fell between them.
“The, uh, the cafe’s just up there if you—”
“No, yeah, that’s—”
“Oh, sorry.”
They stumbled over each other's words, laughter breaking the ice as they overlapped their apologies. That rainy afternoon became the first of many. Soon, meeting in the cozy upstairs café became a ritual. Over shared coffee and slices of pie, they swapped stories—their worst jobs, their favorite city corners, the things they’d never said out loud to anyone else. Scotty discovered that Emily was an amateur photographer, capturing slices of city life, and occasionally working bigger occasions like weddings or parties. She lived just a few blocks away, and somehow, in the comfort of those afternoons in the cafe, their worlds began to blend.
Café meetings turned into dates, and before long, they decided to move in together. Their cozy little apartment filled with the clutter of two people learning to share a life. About six years after that rainy Tuesday, they exchanged vows at a simple ceremony surrounded by family and friends. They opened their own café and kept it running for some years. Mr. Biggs never made the sweeping changes he once dreamed of, but in small, everyday ways, he finally learned to live big. Today, Mr. and Mrs. Biggs are holed up in their dream home with two rowdy children, still living big.