"T-they're books."
"They are."
"There are so many of them… they're so beautiful!" Rosemarie says, stepping into my personal library. "The last time I saw one… I think I was 12."
"Are you able to read?" I ask, leaving the door open behind me.
"No, well, I haven't in a very long time." She responds, running her finger over various book spines.
"Would you like for me to read one? Any of your pick." Rosemarie looks back at me, giving me a small smile. She walks around the library, taking out book after book, looking at titles and any drawings. Five minutes after offering, Rosemarie picks a book, handing it out to me.
"This please."
Taking the book for her, I smile as I read the small script upon the cover. "My grandmother wrote this," I tell her, brushing off the dust. "I haven't read this in…" Decades.
"You don't have to read it, I can pick another one," she comments, sensing the shift in my mood.
"No, no, I'd be more than happy to do so. My grandmother believed herself to be a psychic of sorts, and, often times, the stories she wrote in this book became true, though they were always so cryptic. Well, enough of my droning on, let's read."
Rosemarie and I sit down beside one another on the loveseat, keeping a decent distance between the two of us. "I'm going to flip to a random page, there's no certain order to the stories." Rosemarie nods, looking over the written words on the page.
There once was a woman, who was wrapped up in vines,
She stayed there for days, counting the time.
The vines once so bright, began to darken and become tight,
Ensuring the woman would be kept out of light.
The woman acted strong as she stood high and tall,
Though inside she wanted to fall.
Astonishing this girl, to have lasted all these days,
Kept up inside, and left in a haze.
One day, out of the blue,
A man approached her, and knew what to do.
He took the girl home, and took care of her needs,
Not knowing one day, he would fall to his knees.
Romantic the story, it seems from the start,
But a love so strong, could tear one apart.
Neither Rosemarie nor I brought up the words from the story, continuing on to another book of my choice. The rest of the day went as normal, the two of us only truly talking during meals. After dinner, I went back to the library and read from the book once again, having understood what the words were, that they were directed specifically for Rosemarie and I. I'm sure she may have recognized that as well, but, as said before, we never brought it up.
The man once shone, standing straight in his line,
Acted for a lord, who was lost in his prime.
Losing time, the lord decided to die,
Wishing to leave his place to the man in the line.
"I cannot," the man said, not understanding the price,
As the Lord stood above him, ready to strike.