Every Moment Of Every Day

I laid down the thick purple leather-bound tome on the library desk with wide-eyed reverence and dropped limply into the seat. No disaster struck as I pushed back the cover and tugged it open with the bookmarking ribbon. The book fell open on the current passage easily, the pages as thin as bible paper.

“Though apprehensive about learning if this was truly an accurate description of her entire existence, she placed this book on the nearest library table and sat down heavily. She feared that some cosmic force might intervene to prevent such a violation of causality, and thus save her from her curiosity, but she found she could open the book unimpeded. The most natural test seemed to be inspecting the passage relating to the present moment and so she opened it at the bookmark, wondering at the thin paper. Her eyes fell upon the current paragraph, its accuracy and insight filing her with an overwhelming terror of helplessness. At once she slamme-”

I shut the book. It was long and that was foreknowledge enough.

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