If the old man saw that his books had all been gnawed on, he'd be furious, wouldn't he?
Serves him right.
The bookworm thought indignantly.
Yet a gloom lingered in its heart, refusing to disperse.
It didn't understand. Why had the old man stopped coming?
Had he left?
Was he never coming back?
Why?
He'd clearly said, "See you tomorrow."
Or...
Had something happened to the old man?
At this point, the bookworm looked at the human before it. "Can you help me ask?"
"What happened to Grandpa?"
"Why doesn't he come to the bookstore anymore?"
"Grandpa loves the bookstore most of all."
"And he loves these books most of all, too."
"How could he stop coming?"
"He told me, 'See you tomorrow.'"
"I waited through so many tomorrows, but still didn't see him."
"The bookstore is going to be gone."
The bookworm's voice was dejected.
At first, it hadn't understood what was happening these past few days. But later, it figured it out.
The bookstore was closing.
When it realized that, it was truly shocked. It had never imagined the bookstore would close.
Because the old man loved this bookstore so much.
It loved this bookstore, too.
It was the first bookstore it had ever found so perfectly suited to its tastes.
The lovely scent of books, the old man who could see it, and the sweet honey water...
How could the bookstore close?
But...
It really was closing.
Once the bookstore closed, it would have to leave, too.
But what about the old man?
Once it left, it really would never see him again.
It wanted to see him one more time.
It didn't want to lose contact so inexplicably, and it didn't like it, either.
It needed an explanation.
An explanation for why the old