English Version: Sands & Sparrow

13

"You like reading books," Aveline observed, her gaze sweeping over the shelves filled with assorted books.

"Choose a book," Margo suggested.

She presented a collection of poems. "What about this one?" Margo smiled, holding a glass of wine. "Tell me the page number, Aveline."

"W-why?" Aveline asked, puzzled.

"I'll recite the words from that page without looking at the book."

"Really? Wow!" Aveline eagerly browsed the pages. "What about this one? Uhm... chapter 6, page 68?"

"The page you chose was written by Howard Arnold Walter," Margo revealed.

Aveline flipped through the pages with disbelief. "Wow! You're right! Do you know the poem?"

"Yes," Margo affirmed.

As Margo recounted the poem, watching the stars through the window, she spoke: "I would be true, for there are those who trust me. I would be pure, for there are those who care. I would be strong, for there is much to suffer. I would be a friend of all—the foe, the friendless. I would be giving and forget the gift. I would be humble, for I know my weakness. I would look up, and love, and lift. I would be faithful in each passing moment. I would constantly be in touch with God. I would be strong to follow where He leads me. I would have faith to keep the path that Christ trod."

Aveline scrutinized the page, her finger sliding across the surface, scanning every word with amazement. "Wow, you didn't make a single mistake. It's perfect! How could you possibly know the words? I can't even remember a sentence." Her eyes widened in admiration.

Margo noticed the subtle depth of Aveline's dimples. "You can choose any book you like."

Aveline picked another one. "What about this?"

"That's Don Quixote."

"What's the story about?" Aveline curiously leafed through the pages.

"Would you like me to tell you?"

"Y-yes... please?" Her shyness vanished as she continued talking to Margo.

"Don Quixote is about an old man who lived in Spain. He read so many books that he became obsessed with becoming a knight. He pretended to be one, turning his fantasies into a semblance of reality. He embarked on adventures, rode a donkey as though it were a mighty steed, wielded a rusty sword as if it were the most formidable weapon. He mistook windmills for giants and fought them bravely; he fell in love with a plain peasant girl, whom he adored as the most beautiful princess," Margo explained as she walked towards her.

"Is he crazy?" Aveline pondered, looking at the cover.

"Yes... he was delusional."

"Maybe he lived a miserable life and then decided to change it," Aveline mused.

"I suppose so," Margo agreed.

"He could die happy," Aveline mused, her eyebrows arching in fascination as she considered the book, then shifted her gaze to Margo.

"Well, he was happy, even though others saw him as different or insane. Don Quixote saw the world differently," Margo stepped closer. "Can I ask you a question?"

Aveline, preoccupied with thoughts of Don Quixote, took a few seconds to lift her gaze. "Yes?"

"Why did you kiss me?" Margo asked, looking intently at her.

Aveline felt a sudden rush of warmth to her cheeks. She lowered her gaze, avoiding eye contact. "Let's just say; I'm Don Quixote. I tend to do crazy things," she responded, handing the book back to Margo. "Thanks for letting me borrow it."