Little Stories

Page 158

(YouTube User Mi)

The girl moved between the dusty old bookcases, searching for one read in particular. A part of her was glad no one came to this section of the school library. She had traded messages with someone for over a year, but only through scrawls and notes. They traded secrets, made gossip, confessed worries, and confided hopes. But still, she did not know the person's face. They would instruct each other to find a particular book, into which they'd hide their next message. Of course, they would make sure that the book would be one that no student in their right mind would take out. 

But still, she did not know the other person's face. She didn't even know if the person was a boy or a girl. But still, it was the highlight of her otherwise dreary days. To talk to someone without knowing them, to indulge in a conversation with another. She felt she confidently knew certain things about this person. The person was a prolific and intimate bookworm, just like her. The person had few friends, like her. The person was thoughtful and concise. 

She reached the aisle which the previous message had directed her to go to, and began thumbing through the books. She finally hit upon a thick, voluminous red book. Page 158, she thought to herself. But there was no page 158. It had been ripped out cleanly. Wondering if she had chosen the wrong book, she frantically searched the rest of the bookshelf, but found nothing. Tired and confused, she collapsed onto the library floor and leaned against the window, which leaked the faint glow of the setting sun. Her long black hair slumped over her shoulders as she sat with her knees pulled close to her body. Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder.