I arrived at the Library of Recipes, the last stop in my unnatural quest. The mile-high Alabaster Stairs of Dewey, yellowing with age, spiral up from East to West. I take a deep breath, open my loaded Pistol Parasol, and climb.

The steps are low and broad, slick and shiny. As the altitude thins the steps narrow and become more shallow. By the time I reach the stairs zenith, they are cracked and the size of cards; I just climbed the index of life, slipping on The History of Trains and tripping over The Sex Life of Orchids.

Two Giant Tortoi Sentries flank the black ebony and bronze doors. An hour later, the rhythumic beat of their 3 chambered hearts, holding the one and only genetic code, unlock the doors. I enter.

Surrounded by skyscraper shelving, reigns Queen Book Worm, resting in her house of library cards. She rings her pearl bell. A librarian, riding a Clipper Cart, sails me down a mile long aisle.

“Here YOU are.”

I climb the willow ladder, and reach for the beating spine of my purple heart.