Between the Lines

Day 48 // After

"I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life."

- The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald 

There was a day in June when Rainbow Road was particularly busy. For a reason unknown, there was a little bit more than half of the town's population crowded into the street in the center of town. Nobody apologized when they ran into another, for they were all going too fast and had "far more important places to be than here."

For some unknown reason it seemed as though there was this energy over the town like a blanket, muffling everyone's patience and manners. It was pulsing through everyone's veins, making them bustle with anxiety. It was like every single person on that road had a voice in their head saying, "Come on. Come on. Just go faster." And when someone dared to ask why, that voice just shrugged and continued to push on.

The sweltering heat didn't help, either. People were pulling their shirts away from their skin, sticky with sweat. Every single shop that was open that day had their AC blasting and people pushing through the doors in order to find some small sliver of assuagement from the unrelenting sun. The only place without people continuously ringing that bell over the door—signaling that someone had entered—was the tiny bookshop at the end of the road.

The bookshop looked strangely deserted, missing the usual liveliness that seemed to burst out of the door and creep through each crack and crevice of the building. Cordelia wasn't standing at the counter in the front of the shop, greeting people and shooing away people's stress over an essay due the next day with her laughter. There were books left face-down on chairs, pages crinkling as a result of the numerous fans left on, and the bathroom door left open. But it looked as though nobody was there.

There was this book, however. Thick and worn, lying cover-down and open on the floor. A strange sort of life seemed to be streaming out of it. In fact, if one was to look at it, truly look at it, one could say that it was glowing. A light looked as though it was pouring out of the pages, illuminating it. The book remained still, until the pages started to flip one after the other in a mad frenzy. The light pouring out of the book became a beam so light that it could've blinded someone had they looked into it. All of a sudden it stopped—the pages became still and the light dimmed. And thus, the story begun.

Really short prologue, I know. I just wanted to get something out there. This is actually a piece I'm writing for my creative writing class, so I'm changing it into a romance and when I write a chapter there, I'll upload it here :))).