“Read the book, she said. Read the book.” Stupid of me to listen after the last one I was suckered into reading. But, this was getting to be a real pain. I trudged along a line of type, Courier New, no doubt, 12 point font.

This was getting so, so old. I shoved my hands into my pockets and clenched my fists. This book was so cold. No color in the words. They formed shapes here and there but mostly it was just lines of characters.

Every now and then I would trip on a numeral, or two, and fall face first onto the next page. I tried to remember to keep my hands free after tumbling on to the faded and yellowed page.

Trying to look ahead was useless. I could not stand on the edge of the page to try and read ahead. I kept trying to convince myself that if I could just get to the last page all this would be over. And, that I would never read another of her stupid favorite books.

I saw the numeral ahead of me and readied myself to hop to the next page.

When I landed, everything went technicolor!