Leeta slowly set the poetry book down, taking care that setting said book down wouldn’t result in a collapsing table, and stepped forward for a better look. She used both hands to lift the book from where it lay wedged between the 11th edition Encyclopedia Brittanica #32 in its soft green, and the ugly brown book titled Birds of America and repeated her setting down procedure on the dust-covered arm-chair on her left side, checking first to be certain it also wouldn’t collapse. the book was pretty heavy.
She considered stretching the sleeve of her shirt over her fingers and cleaning the cover off a bit, as her shirt would give evidence she had already done numerous times before, but it proved to be unnecessary, this book was completely clean of dust. How very odd. Well, perhaps someone else had already looked at the book today, Leeta considered.
She placed her hand on the cover and found it to be slightly warm under her fingertips. As if it had been in the sun, only that wasn’t really possible. As the bane of all bookstores were the sun and this one, being of no exception, only had windows (carefully arranged so that the books were well away from its front door) at the very front of the establishment.
This particular pile was located, if one had a proper map of the book kingdom that resided in the bookstore A Curious Tale, one would have to sail around the sea of Biography, past the Manga Pit of doomed hours, and straight over the cliff of torrid romance, to reach the very back of the kingdom where the Burning Strait of Poetry resided, and where Leeta currently would have listed as its only resident.
She curled her fingers over the corner of the book cover and lifted. The book gave a soft creak sound and a small puff of scent wafted to her nose and smelled somewhat vaguely of salt and sea. She couldn’t explain why her heart was beating so rapidly or why she felt completely captivated by the moment, but she was, therefore, her disappointment was truly palpable when her gaze finally rested on the first page and found…nothing.
The book was blank. Blank! How could it be blank! She felt an irrational anger sprout from her and flopped back onto her butt on the shiny dust-free floor (she still found that weird, by the way).
She kicked somewhat ineffectually at the chair which, simply didn’t react to her pique seeing as it was wedged up on both sides by books and simply didn’t have the floor space to be even slightly endangered by her flailing sense of betrayal.
Leeta regarded the blank page with a defeated air of resentment. “You should have at least had the good taste to have dirt stains or a single torn title page” She leveraged herself upright and pulled the book down off the chair. It fell to the wood with a gentle bang sound. She pulled it forward disregarding its spine’s integrity and leafed through it. Every page, every single one, was blank. The book was truly the oldest looking thing in the room, but what use was that if the book was completely blank inside?
She decided she wanted it anyway. Since it was blank it wouldn’t be considered sacrilege if she used it as a journal right? It was really big for a journal though, she considered it for a moment more and then sighed. She couldn’t forgive it for being so boring, but she definitely didn’t think she could leave it here, she just couldn’t. The little pretender book was coming with her. She leveraged herself up from the floor, awkwardly clutching the book along her left forearm, and probably causing a bruise to be considered later, and stopped just long enough to add the Cheerful Rebellion to her arms before making her way from the Kingdom of Curious and back into the really annoying world she called “armpits reality”