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 It would have been silly of me to think that sleep would come to me that night. I got home from Alexandria's and did nothing but pace across my room for far longer than I realized. I suppose I do this when I'm nervous. Why would I be nervous about reading the book? Am I scared that I won't like it? If I thought it was utter crap? Now my brain was spinning at such a velocity that minutes seem like seconds and, before I knew it, time had railroaded by and I remembered that at some point I should go to sleep.

I found myself at a strange precipice. It's hard for me to entirely understand why such a desire hacks away at Alexandria. I get why people do what they love and should never stop doing what they love, but I've never truly seen it in such full force. I've never experienced it so closely.

Her book sat on my nightstand, illuminated by the lone lamplight above it as I paced the floor of my dimly lit room. I stared inside the burnt circle on the top page. Never had such a curiosity enveloped me before than it had it this moment. I needed to know what story lay amongst those pages and I wouldn't sleep until I did.

I picked up the manuscript; the only one in existence. I put it to my nose and smelled it. Smelled like paper tinged with ash, not that I should've suspected anything different.

How many hours had it taken her? I couldn't fathom. What thoughts went on behind that pretty face? What dreams have been let out of her heart?

I was teasing myself. If I thought it was utter garbage, would it change the way I saw her? That seemed irrational, because I was sure it wouldn't. But could I really know that? After all, a person is not defined by what they do but who they are. That was something I knew for certain.

I stared at her pile of words long enough with thoughts zipping through my head and emotions battling one another until I had finally given in. Sleep would not come anytime soon.

I decided that I would read until I could not read anymore; until either my eyes closed, book slipping from my grasp as sleep overpowered me or I was finished.

I settled in with Alexandria's tome and read.

I had gotten over ninety pages deep when my phone rang, buzzing itself madly on the wood top of the nightstand. Picking it up despite the number not being recognized by my phone, I said "Hello."

"Are you up?"

"Answering phones in my sleep would be quite a skill. Kinda weird though. I'd probably wanna get that checked out."

"Don't be a smart-ass." So it was Alex who was calling. I looked at my clock to see it read two-thirty a.m. I had no idea it had gotten so late.

"Why are you calling so late? And I remembered that I never even got your number, so how do you have mine?"

"You wanted to ask me for my number?"

"Don't be a smart-ass." I could play her game just as well as she.

She sighed dramatically. "I have everyone's phone number from work on a sheet Boss gave me. Didn't exactly need to go into full detective mode."

"Ah."

"So...What are you doing? You sound awfully alert for having been woken out of sleep."

"Good observation. I wasn't sleeping."

She seemed to be waiting for me to elaborate.

"I was reading," I said, half teasing out any building suspense. It didn't take a psychic to know why Alex had called. I had picked up on it quick enough.

The Book NookWaar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu