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an excerpt

There it lays, a pitiful sight in the bright afternoon sunlight, facing down in a puddle of rain, its spine showing sights of life with the curves of its title. Of cause abandon by its owner once it was read, torn apart with graffiti upon its pages in colorful ink. Asleep it seem to be covered in dull murky water.

Picking it up casually without looking at it, Gabrielle "Gaby" Van der Mal shakes the water off and smooth away the raindrops and dirt off its cover. A classic, "Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain." Yes, it is salvageable even with its cover almost torn apart.

It is an odd hobby at least from certain individual's point of view. Inherited from her late father whose love of books had taught her to appreciate even the oldest and most worn out book. Her father was a professor of literature and often would brought home used or worn out books just for them to repair back to its original form. It was a weekly ritual that they shared almost every weekend. Her aunt Sofia who was living with them at the time, didn't quite understood it but she knew better than to buy new books for either one of them and would occasionally bring home damaged books for them to work on.

Gaby remembered those heavenly days, those moments of shared joy. Her father's wrinkled face smiling at her behind round spectacles that would sometimes flashes bright spots of light in her direction. Those sparkle of light that still remind with her. His laughter, his smile, would bring so much joy to her.

One Saturday, the rain was beating hard against the windowpane. Gaby recalls the day so vividly. Her colorful bunny slippers on her feet, wearing her favorite pjs with clouds and blue sky on them. The window was open in the studio where they work on their books. Rain was spitting its way in but her father loved the sound and so she didn't close the window. There they were sitting, facing each other, each working on their own book. She didn't noticed at first, the red liquid smearing on the pages. She turned her hand over and saw that she had a paper cut, a very long one. Blood was slipping from the wound but she she felt no pain. She licked her the blood off her hand and continued to work. Soon she felt the sting on the area where her cut was.

Moments later, when she went to wash her hands for dinner, the cut was not there. It seem to have disappeared. She thought she had imagined it but the sting of the cut came back to her as she laid in bed. How was that possible, she thought. She fell asleep dreaming about clouds.

Back in her solitary apartment, Gaby placed the book on her stainless steel work desk where she does all her book repairs. Eating half a tv dinner with a diet coke was all she could muster. She check her cell phone for messages but there were none. After her warm shower, she lay in her bed with the windows open, letting the cool breeze seep into her skin. She does not sleep as she lay under the cool covers. Thoughts of her father invade her mind. How strange she still remembers the day her father had walked her home from her first day at kindergarten. She remember her sunflower hair clips and the tip of her father's white sneakers with a small ink stain on them. Warm tears flows out of her eyes as she lift the cover closer. She sleeps without dreaming.