Post by marni helena shaw on Jul 5, 2021 11:39:36 GMT -5
Marni didn’t realise the book in her bag wasn’t hers until she curled up in the plush armchair with a mug of hot chocolate, intent to read a few chapters before she went to bed. It was then that she noticed her usual bookmark wasn’t there; the cracked leather instead replaced with a folded piece of paper. Not only that, but it wasn’t in the right place – she could have sworn she was at least fifty pages further in than that. It took her a few minutes, a furrowed brow, and a hurried memory of her afternoon in the library where she had been sharing a study table with three other students. Plucking the makeshift bookmark out, but while being careful to remember the page, Marni unfolded it, eyes scanning the information and widening when she saw contact details scrawled onto the now crumpled lines. A phone number meant her book might not be lost forever. More importantly, her bookmark may not be lost forever. It might seem like a tiny little thing, but Marni had used the same bookmark since her gramps had bought it for her from a museum trip when she was twelve. It was small, a cheap giftshop item, but it had been one of the few trips that was just her and her gramps and she cherished the memory on the faded, scratched, cracked page keeper that had been in more books than Marni cared to track.
She grabbed her phone from the charger, double-checking the number as she typed it in, saving it in her contacts under “Book Thief” for the time being. After dragging her thumbs over the screen for a few seconds, she set about typing the message that was forming in her mind, pausing only to scratch Pluto behind the ears when he came over to sit beside her, already set to turn in for the night and now patiently waiting on his owner to say the magic words. Marni, however, wanted to sit it out to see if she got a reply to the message she had just sent; “Hi, not sure if leaving your phone number in books you plan to leave around is the smartest of ideas, but it’s useful in this instance. Anyway, you have my book, I think. I have yours, obviously. Assuming you want this back as much as I want mine back. Thanks 👽”
Marni placed her phone on the arm of her chair and looked around her cosy apartment. She wasn’t sure what to do now her plans were mostly dashed. It felt strange to read someone else’s book. She didn’t know why, but it did – especially when she didn’t know whose it was, or if they were okay with book lending in the first place. Marni nursed her hot chocolate, sipping gingerly at it to check the temperature. It would have been more enjoyable if she was already a chapter deep in a story, travelling with characters on some grand adventure that took her far from the city, but she supposed it still tasted alright, despite her ruined plans. She was about halfway through the mug when her phone lit up beside her, the light flashing brightly, drawing her attention back to the smart device. Immediately she hoped it was a response from the Book Thief, mostly so she could make plans to get her book back soon. She hated not knowing how a story ended.
• • •
TAGGED! Tripp Stanley Hathaway
WORDS! 577!
LYRICS! April 7th - - - The Maine
NOTES! <3
