She’s An Open Book

The moment prior was written as a sentence and Stella was getting more and more disturbed at the fatalism implied in the existence of the book in front of her. She scanned backwards through the page only to find her walking into the bookshop. It was just enough to worry a free spirit such as herself.

“You say this kind of thing just happens?”

“Not often, but yes it happens.”

“So, someone actually wrote a biography on me, accurate up until the minute I read it.”

“That’s not a question.”

She was deep in the book again reading the dialogue. She looked back up at Gary, her trusted fellow seller of books and back down at the page to read about her look at Gary. Gary was unamused at her literary magpie coming out into the open. Stella looked back up at Gary trying desperately to keep her eyes on him and not on the prosaic spectator on the counter.

“I’m sorry to be repetitive. This happens?”

“Yes Stella. I know it sounds crazy but sometimes a book just happens to know you.”

“So, if I go forward I’ll read my ?”

“No, the acknowledgements,  which consists of a tearful thank you addressed to you.”

“How do you know it’s tearful?”

“Almost drove me to it anyways, it’s very moving.”

“How much?”


She pulled out a wad of washingtons. She went to the door with her new prize.

“Stella before you go.”


“Get rid of it, you’ll never live your life if your reading it.”

She did not heed his advice but did proceed to leave it on her bus seat. A man named Henry read about it later, he thought it was a great bit in an otherwise uninteresting story. Shirley picked it up later and got more use out of it, especially the chapter involving ducks.