Dreams of a Good Read

I took a walk this morning. I don’t know why; I never take walks in the morning. Maybe once in a blue moon do I take one in the afternoon, or any time of day, but never in the morning. Wild hair today, I guess.

I headed towards the library without meaning to, just random turns until there it was in front of me. It was starting to get a little warm out, and air conditioning and books are just about the best two things I can think of, so I pushed the door open for the blessed cool air to hit me.

It was like a wave of relief washing over me. I do like me some AC. I moseyed over to the fiction section, tossing a hand up at the librarian as I passed by her desk. She smiled and kept typing whatever it was she was typing on her computer.


I let my hand slide across the spines of the books as I walked down the aisles. Just the feel of books is enough to settle me sometimes. I paused when a cover caught my eye, and I pulled it off the shelf to have a look. I cracked it open and was about to read a few words when I heard someone talking on the other side of the shelf.

It was a woman, her voice library quiet . If I’d been another row over I wouldn’t have heard her, but I liked the way she spoke. The rise and fall of her words, so soft I couldn’t make them out, soothing as the books themselves.

I kept the book in my hand as I walked around the end to find out whose voice it was, but she must have been ahead of me, because when I turned the corner, no one was there. I continued on to the next row, and the next, but I couldn’t find her. I decided she must have gone to check out whatever books she had, so I went to the desk, pulling out my wallet to remove my library card.

I asked the librarian who the girl was who just left, but she looked confused, and told me I was the first patron of the day. I laughed it off, saying I must have been hearing ghosts, and took my book and walked back home.

I sat down in my recliner and cracked the fresh book open. A few pages in, I closed it and put it down. It was a mockery of good fiction, nothing I could read. I need a story that pulls me in, at least a little bit, and this one didn’t, at all. Well, you win some and you lose some.

I laced my fingers behind my head and leaned back in my chair while the dog wheezed and sputtered in the other room.

13 minutes, and it finished itself. I choose number 17. TBP OLWG #18

4 Comments on “Dreams of a Good Read”

  1. LRose says:

    13 minutes?! Impressive.
    Who was she??

    • April says:

      Maybe a dream, maybe a homeless girl living in the attic. I’m not sure.

      When I’m feeling the story, it tells itself as fast as I can type.

  2. tnkerr says:

    Well done! Gracias

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