Wicken finished writing in the book the old man from the shop gave to him in a little over a day. Never in his life would he have imagined he had so much to say – and there was still more.
He gathered up the book, tucking it under his arm again before heading back to the marketplace. The old man's shop was in the same place it was before. Wicken strode over and handed the leather book to the man.
"Your name," Wicken pressed. "You promised."
"Willy," the old man said, taking the book.
"Wicken. Two W's. How fitting." And a little too coincidental.
"If it's easier, you can call me Billy instead."
Shaking his head, Wicken leaned onto the counter. "I need another."
A small smirk came to Willy's lips. "Still not finished? That's a first. My collection of stories has never had a two-book installment."
"I'm either really smart, really emo, or just like to run my mouth off." Maybe a combination of the three. Wicken mused. "What are you going to do with this anyway?"
The older man handed him another leather-bound book. "After your next volume is finished, I'll tell you."
Wicken took the book, groaning, expressing a lot more irritation than he actually felt. The game was kind of fun. It wouldn't take long for him to complete his tale of how he came to be onboard the starship Persistence.
YOU ARE READING
Displaced
Science FictionChevelle Donahue thought going into work would be just like any other boring day at the mall. Sure, there was her annoying co-worker Wicken Sanders, and a promotional visit from teen heartthrob Timber Hudson, to watch and keep her entertained. But w...
