Microstory 212: Run for Your Lice!

It was a very lousy day. I made a whole bunch of new friends, and when I went into school the next morning, I gave some of my friends to my classmates. When our teacher found out, she made us stay in the room, even though Tommy had to go to the bathroom real bad. Some adults in white coats came in and we all had to go to the gymnasium. We stood in line for a long time, but they weren’t telling us why. Finally, when I got closer, I learned that the white coats just wanted to kill all my friends. I couldn’t let that happen, and so I bolted from the building, running into several of the other children. People started chasing after me, but I was the fastest in my grade. There was no way I was going to get caught. I weaved through the cars in the parking lot and sprinted across the soccer field. I found myself in a real pickle when I reached the corner. The light was red, but the white coats were catching up to me, and so I did something drastic. I ran across the street that was already blinking red and counting down. You’re not supposed to cross unless the light was white when you started. I thought I was home free, and that they were going to have to wait for the light to turn back, but they didn’t. A police officer held his hand out and stopped the cars from going so that she and white coats could safely get across. Rats! I had to think fast. Mommy told me never to go into the woods, but I had no choice. I slipped through the trees and continued to run. Amazingly enough, the white coats continued to chase after me. What was with these people and their obsession with murdering the only friends I’ve had since we moved? The forest is thick, but not deep. I could hear music, cheering, and other loud noises coming from up ahead. It was a parade. I raced through the crowd, my long and beautiful hair brushing up against the strangers, giving them new friends just like mine. I managed to escape, and I’ve been running ever since. So yeah, I’m sorry. I am the one responsible for the infestation that ended civilization fifteen years ago. Sue me.

Microstory 211: Sign Here and Here

After years of searching, I have finally found a fulltime permanent position at a company with benefits and opportunity for growth. If I had been forced to take just one more dead-end temp job, I would have needed to use three pages for my résumé. I go in on my first day and am fully prepared to start working immediately, but my new supervisor informs me that there is just too much onboarding to do. I start by signing the usual suspects; tax forms, standard policies, emergency contacts, and payroll. I watch a few DVDs for safety, sexual harassment, and basic training. Finally, my supervisor hands me an extremely large binder with a whopping thirty-one places to sign and initial. It’s coupled with one last video that I will have to watch in tandem with the binder sections. But first, I’m required to sign a general nondisclosure agreement that really doesn’t tell me what I’m agreeing to. I ask her exactly what this is all for, but she just tells me that she can say nothing until I make that first signature, and watch the video. I do what she asks of me, knowing that my bank account can’t handle too many questions. The video is strange. Unlike the others, it’s not fun, or campy, or familiar. It’s serious and dark. The man on the screen speaks of the organization’s unique efficiency program, and it really does sound different than other companies that I’ve worked for. In fact, some of the claims he makes don’t sound so much as physically possible.

Towards the end of the video, he says that following my final signature, I’ll be taken to see the founder and Chief Executive Officer of the company, Tiberius Vasilyev. Upon shaking his hand, I will supposedly feel an increase in productivity, coherence, and intelligence. I won’t need to sleep as much, I’ll be more more motivated to eat healthier, I will be expected to live longer, and I’ll even be a better driver. This isn’t just a bunch of fanciful mumbo jumbo, according to the man; it is 100% true, and I would understand in a few minutes. At the end of the video, my supervisor escorts me across the building without a word. As we walk down the hallway, other obviously new employees, just as confused as I am, file in from other rooms. One by one, the CEO shakes our hands. And I swear, they begin to glow, like a pregnant woman. They seem instantly at peace and energized. When he gets to me, something goes wrong. My skin doesn’t begin to glow, and my hand actually hurts a little from his grip. He pulls away and tries again, but nothing. “This one’s broken,” Vasilyev admits. “Sorry, kid,” he says to me with a frown. “It happens one in several thousand. Some people just don’t take. The handshake creates a sense of loyalty, but if it doesn’t work, it makes you just as motivated as one of my minions, but it also turns you into one of my worst enemies.” He nods once to my supervisor as she’s ferrying me out of the room, “dispose of his body on sublevel C.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 29, 2053

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After Reaver told his story, he seemed to be in a bit of a better mood. Mateo had the feeling that he hadn’t explained himself to anyone before, and that this was probably a heavy burden for him to carry for all these years. His past in an alternate timeline did not excuse his actions, but they did lead to a logical and believable conclusion. Reaver’s hatred for Mateo now made a whole lot more sense. Imagine knowing the man responsible for killing the love of your life, and then going back in time to prevent it from happening, only to still end up alone. But the story was not yet complete. Mateo still didn’t know how it was that an alternate version of him had caused an alternate version of Leona’s death. Perhaps if he had all the facts, he would be able to help Reaver’s situation more; maybe even change his mind about revenge.

A man came down the steps and approached Mateo’s cell. He was holding a tray of food. But instead of a strange platter of finger food, this was full brekky. Either he made a decision against his superior’s wishes, or the conversation last year really had helped ease Reaver’s pain. The man placed the tray on the floor and slid it through. Taking a chance, Mateo spoke to him, “are you Allen? Or Richard?”

The man stopped and turned back around. “I’m Allen, actually. Why?”

Mateo thought about revealing to him about his marriage to Ulinthra in the alternate timeline, and how he had died. But that wasn’t his place, and would have placed unnecessary stress on Allen’s life. If Reaver had chosen to not tell him, then it was probably for a good reason, as weird as that sounds. “You’re the one who tried to pick me up after the forest fire, right?”

Allen nodded, “I am.”

“How long have you been working for Horace?”

“Fifteen years.”

“Do you know why he’s locked me up?”

“Do you not?”

“I do. I was just wondering if you do.”

Allen sighed and began to leave. “I don’t really care.”

“Do you even know Richard?” Mateo called up before Allen had disappeared completely up the stairs.

“Just some guy who worked for Reaver before I did.” He left.

That was sad. After going back in time, Reaver had sought out two people before they had a chance to meet each other, and for whatever reason, made sure that they never did. That was good information, though, that might help Mateo persuade Reaver to talk about this situation rationally. He fell asleep for a few more hours.

“Believe it or not,” Reaver said, waking Mateo up, “when I chose to keep Richard and Allen apart, I was trying to help.”

“In what way?”

“I thought if they never met each other, they would never feel the loss.”

“It didn’t work, did it?”

“They were and are two of the most depressed men who have ever worked for me. They were supposed to be together, and I took that away from them.”

“You could always introduce them to each other now.”

“Richard died. It had nothing to do with you. It was just his time. But they were soulmates, and that only acted to fuel my mission.”

“Your mission to get Leona back?”

“Yes.” Reaver stood up and focused on Mateo’s eyes. “The choosing ones can jack with time all they want, but ya see, I think the soul is timeless. I don’t think it can ever forget what happened in an alternate timeline. If you were in love before, you’ll either be in love again, or you’ll feel an emptiness. Leona must be feeling that. Because she’s not supposed to be with you. She’s mine, and she needs me back. If I can just get her to realize that she’s already in love with me, then I can remove her from your pattern, and we can be together again. I need your help, Mateo. Please, I know you think you love her, but she doesn’t belong to you.”

Mateo stood up and approached the window. “Don’t you see, Horace? Your relationship was built on a lie. You killed...I don’t even know how many people.”

“That happened before I met Leona.”

“But it didn’t,” Mateo tried to explain. “You killed all three of them in that ritual. And then you killed Allen for real before your wedding. And even if you hadn’t, Leona fell in love with a man who was not a killer. But that man didn’t exist; you just made her think that you were him.” He slowly shook his head. “She’s not in love with you, and she never was. She was in love with the lie.”

“You son of a bitch,” Reaver lunged and prepared to open the door.

“How did she die?”

Reaver stopped. “What?”

“You said I caused her death, but that I didn’t actually kill her. So how did she die?”

“You’re an ignorant dumbass. You came from 2015, so you didn’t have an understanding of how technology had progressed. You took control of a speeding car in a world where no one does that. I tried to take control back from you but we crashed into a bridge. You and I survived, but she didn’t.”

Mateo decided to not even bring up the fact that Reaver was partially responsible for the accident. Something told him that he already knew that, and was angry at himself for not being able to admit it. “Why did I take control? Where did I need to go?”

“Richard was in trouble. But he was two hundred miles away! There was no chance of us getting there in any helpful amount of time. We were supposed to be foiling an armed robbery. And you weren’t even trying to get there anyway. You wanted to go to a cemetery. I have no clue why. You were insane.”

“A cemetery? Did I say why?”

“Not while you were trying to drive. But after we woke up from the crash, you were delirious. You wanted to send a fax from an empty grave. I don’t know. Something was off about that day. Other salmon were in play, and you were just one screwed up piece of that puzzle.”

“I wanted to send a fax?”

“Yeah, this was 2036. You couldn’t have sent a fax, even if you wanted to. No one would be on the other end. Like I said...insane.”

“It’s not insane. I can explain it.”

“Okay, go ahead. Some kind of code?”

“No, you just misunderstood me. I probably had blood coming out of my mouth. But I can’t just tell you. I have to show you.”

“Fine. Do it.”

“Well, we have to go to a cemetery.”

“So you can try to escape? Yeah, sure.”

Mateo shrugged. “You can keep me chained up. All I need is an open grave.”

“Not this again.”

“In the alternate timeline, I could have helped Richard. In this timeline...I can help you and Leona. But you’re gonna have to trust me. You ever done that before?”

Reaver had no answer.

“Chain me up and take me to a cemetery in the middle of nowhere. I won’t be able to run. But it will all make sense. I promise.”

When Mateo was in high school, he and his friends started hanging out at a cemetery. The gravedigger, Mr. Halifax let them do it as long as they were safe and responsible. He had become friends with Mr. Halifax, and there was one thing he would say nearly every time they saw each other, “if you ever fall into an open grave, I’ll be there to take you anywhere you need to go.” It was weird, but kind of sweet, and he likely wasn’t lying. Mateo first jump through time from the cemetery, and it was Mr. Halifax who had driven him home upon his return. He had been remarkably calm, even though Mateo had been mysteriously gone for the last year. Mateo always thought there was something he was keeping secret, but with all the drama, he never went back to ask.

Allen helped Mateo out of the back of the van. It had taken them a long time to get there, but they were finally at a place called Hughenden Cemetery.

“Okay, we’re here. Go ahead and show me.” Reaver was impatient. “How will this help Leona understand?”

“I need an open grave, I told you.”

Reaver exhaled sharply. “Let’s go look.”

They didn’t have to walk around too much before they found a grave on the outer edge that had not yet been filled with remains. Mateo looked in and prepared himself. If this didn’t work, then nothing was going to change. He would still be in the possession of his enemy, Horace Reaver. But if it did work, then all this was about to be over. “You see, you did misunderstand the alternate version of me. I didn’t want to send a fax, I wanted to speak with someone whose name was Halifax.”

“And he lives in New Jersey?” Reaver was clearly confused.

“He lives everywhere. That is, if I’m not mistaken. I can’t be sure, but I think he’s one of us.”

Reaver’s eyes widened. “No.”

“If I had to guess,” Mateo began, “I would say his nickname is...The Gravedigger. Someone has to do it, right?”

“No!” Reaver yelled, but it was too late.

Mateo tipped himself over and fell backwards into the open grave. It was pretty painful, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He looked up and saw the sky to have changed from bright morning to dim twilight. He could hear a struggle above him, and then the distinct sound of a shovel colliding with flesh and bone.

After a few seconds, Mr. Halifax reached into the grave and pulled Mateo out. He laughed, “you figured it out.”

“I saw someone digging my aunt, Daria’s grave two weeks ago. I didn’t see your face, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that literally everyone I’ve ever met is either a salmon or a choosing one.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” Mr. Halifax said. “But I didn’t want to.”

“I understand.” He looked down at Reaver lying motionless on the ground. “He’s not dead, right?”

“Of course not,” Mr. Halifax reassured him. “Where are we taking him?”

“Easter Island. His new crib is waiting for him there.”

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Reavers Wobble: One Grave (Part III)

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Horace and Leona postponed their honeymoon following the realization that Allen never came back from looking for a party boat they knew was going to go missing. The boat never returned, and the search for it was called off a few days later. Ulinthra backed up Horace’s lie that Allen had felt the need to find it, when really he had been murdered by Horace. Convincing the authorities that this was what happened was a little harder, but the family had no reason to think that they were not being honest; especially since the two of them had been able to practice the lie during Round One of their day. The team held off on saving lives for a couple weeks, taking time to grieve for their lost loved one. But their responsibilities beckoned to them, and they all went back to the routine, minus one important member.

On the fifth of April in the year of your lord 2030, they met a salmon named Mateo Matic. His inescapable pattern was to live for one day every year. At the end of it, he would be thrown exactly one year in the future. He had heard of The Delegator, and other salmon, but had met only one other of their kind. He spent his days doing whatever he could to stay alive in a world without identity. He had left his family days ago from his perspective, no longer wanting to subject them to the torturous roller coaster that was his brief appearances. Having nothing better to do, and wanting to fulfill a purpose, Mateo joined their team as an honorary member. He successfully helped them on missions six times before the fateful seventh day.

“She’s gotten so big,” Mateo exclaimed after returning to the timestream on April 11, 2036. He had just peeked in on Leona and Horace’s daughter. “I know, people say that all the time, but for me, it works.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Horace said playfully.

“Be nice,” Leona warned him.

“Good morning, everyone. We have a busy day,” Ulinthra said, coming into the room. “But we’re playing with our full roster, so I think we can make it.” She picked up her clipboard. “A shipment of tin is coming in to Port of Wilmington from Columbia. It turns up stolen. We don’t know when this happens, but we know it’s after coming into port. I need both brains and brawn on this one, so Mateo will accompany Horace and Leona to protect and investigate, if need be. Richard, that means you’ll have to go up to Yale University alone. A small riot breaks out during a protest for...” she trailed off, looking through her notes. “...molecule teleportation. I don’t know, but a girl who was never named is injured when she gets caught in the middle of the fight. You’ll spend more time driving up there than actually helping. Fortunately, you’ll also be close enough to stop a three-car pileup on the 91, and help a little girl find her cat in Hartford. Here’s a hint, it’s in her neighbor’s basement. I know it’s not that important, but your night mission in Boston is. I’ll discuss that with you in a minute. While you’re all doing that, I have to drive all the way up to Montauk to assist with flood rescue.”

“I could do that instead, if you’d like,” Mateo offered.

“No, I should do it. Other people will be there helping, and we can’t risk exposing the fact that you’re supposed to be old and dead to the public.” She looked around the room. “No more questions or comments? Gear up, take your timelines, and head out as soon as possible.”

Leona pulled Horace into the other room. “Remember what we talked about?” she asked.

“We’re not going back in time,” Horace said. “I don’t understand why we’re discussing this.”

“It makes me nervous when we deal with other salmon. Anything could happen. I’ve heard rumors that his father can go back in time. If something happens, I need to make sure that you understand time travel protocols.”

“I do, I get it. Let’s go. The ship will be coming in soon.”

“Repeat them to me.”

“Leona, we have to go.”

“We can’t go anywhere until the babysitter gets here. Repeat the words. Quietly,” she insisted.

“Dougnanimous Brintantalus,” Horace said the magic words reluctantly. “Those are so stupid.”

“That’s exactly why I chose them. No one would think to say them. If you go back in time, say those words to me, and I’ll know that I can trust you.”

“Do you know what the odds are that I’ll go back in time and run into you sometime after you’ve come up with these silly rules?”

“I do actually know the odds. Would you like to hear them?”

Horace shook his head steadily. “Shut up, smarty pants.”

After an hour drive, it was still dark outside. They didn’t always start working so early in the day, but they liked to make full use of Mateo’s availability. He drooled a little on his shirt, sprawled out in the seat across from them as the car automatically took them to their destination. The man could fall asleep in an instant, wherever he was. Being homeless, and always on the move, this skill came in handy.

They quickly found the shipping container that they needed to protect, hoping their presence would not alert the robbers and put them in harm’s way. Mateo continued to sleep through the majority of the day while they waited on the sidelines for someone to make a move. But no one ever did. The proper owners of the tin came to pick up their shipment and left with a truck. It was a good thing Leona was there to make sure the people who came for it were authorized to do so. Convincing people to give up information to a stranger was not Horace’s strong suit, but it was hers.

“You don’t think we should still follow them?” Mateo asked.

“No, something’s changed.” Horace was very concerned. “Something’s not right. We must have proverbially stepped on a butterfly.”

“If we changed the outcome just by being around, then that seems to me like we definitely should follow them.”

“No,” Horace said. “I don’t like it here. We need to leave. We didn’t do enough to alter the timeline. Only one thing could have.”

“What?” Mateo asked.

“Another salmon,” Horace and Leona answered, practically at the same time.

“Well, great. Then we have some help. We should find out who they are; maybe even add another person to the team.”

“No,” Horace said.

“I agree,” Leona nodded. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“I don’t understand why you two are so afraid.”

“Ulinthra?” Horace asked to his phone.

“Yes?” Ulinthra responded.

“Mission bust. Back-up mission.”

“Uh...” Ulinthra thought it over. She sounded winded. “Armed robbery in Woodstown. No one gets hurt, but the convenience store suffers some damage. That’s all I got for ya. I had planned on you sitting there awhile. What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later,” Horace said. “It may be nothing. Send our car the details.”

While the car was driving them to their new mission, Richard called in urgently, “help!”

“What’s wrong, Richard?” Leona asked.

“The riot has become larger. I don’t know what happened. These eco-freaks just came in and started throwing things at people. And now I think people have started joining in without any idea why they’re supposed to be angry. It’s gotten way out of hand.”

“Richard,” Horace said. “No one can get to you. We’re all too far away.”

“I can get to them,” Mateo assured them. “Uh...computer? Take us to the nearest cemetery. Um, please?”

“What are you talking about? Stay out of this!” Horace redirected his words, “Richard, are you somewhere safe?”

“I don’t know. I’m hiding behind some bushes, but—oh no, a group is coming this way. I have to be quiet, they’re like zombies!” Richard whispered loudly.

“I just need to find an open grave! Hal, take us to a cemetery!”

“The car’s name isn’t Hal,” Leona said.

“Oh, forget it!” Mateo crawled over to the dashboard, and figured out how to switch the vehicle to manual.

Horace tried to pull him off, but wasn’t strong enough. “Get away from the wheel!”

“I can do this,” Mateo swore. “I just need one grave for one minute.”

“No one drives by hand anymore!” Leona yelled.

“I knew we shouldn’t have gotten a car with a steering wheel. This isn’t 2025!” Horace continued to struggle with the wheel. But it wasn’t enough. The car crashed into the pillar of the Broadway bridge.

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Microstory 210: The Line

Talking on the phone is my greatest fear, and I never do it. I’m best with the written word, because I have time to really think about what I want to say. I become quite anxious around others, but at least when I’m talking to people face to face, I can read their reaction to what I’m saying, and tailor my words to fit their demeanor. I’ve been working with a therapist, but I still jump away when I hear the phone ring. Believe it or not, that’s progress. I used to hide in the other room. And so, whenever I have a question that can’t be answered through cyberspace, I just drive to where I need to be. I’ve been having problems with water damage in my basement, and recently attached this flexible plastic tubing to my gutters. The problem is that the tubes are constantly in my way when I’m trying to mow or rake the leaves. I would like to bury them in the ground, but I need to find out where I’m allowed to dig, and whether I need to obtain some kind of permit, or if I’m not allowed to do it myself.

I pull up to the local government building and walk inside. I am immediately met with the longest queue I’ve ever seen in my life. Seriously, I can’t even tell where it ends. I stand in line for nearly an hour, and feel like I’ve made no progress, but I know that I have. No musak is playing, so time goes by very slowly. All of the sudden, my name is called on the intercom. I don’t move for half a moment, because I didn’t expect it to happen. No one knows that I came here. I didn’t call, I didn’t write; I just showed up. That’s how I do what I do when I do what I do. Just as I’m thinking that I may have misheard the announcement, they call my name again, and this time I’m sure that they mean me. They even use my middle name. I timidly step out of line and head down the hallway according to the directory on the wall. The place is a maze, and I think I went in circles a few times, but everything looks pretty much the same. Finally, I arrive at the door where the lady on the intercom told me to go. After preparing myself the best I possibly can, I turn the knob and peek inside. All I see is complete darkness. Not even the first few inches of the floor are illuminated by the light from the hallway. “Hello?” I fearfully call into the void before me. A phone rings. I jump back and try to leave but the hallway is gone. I am in the midst of the blackness. Another phone rings. And then another. And then a chorus of phones, ringing at different intervals, and with different tones.

As I’m dying on the floor, my heart trying desperately to beat, but failing, I see an alien walk over me and pick up one of the phones. “I was right! Humans can die of fear. It’s probably a heart thing. You owe me five space bucks.”

Microstory 209: Steeling Glances

For centuries, the traditionally misguided have been sent on the quest to find the Steel Plate of Algamoritha. The plate is not hidden, but it is difficult to reach. They say that the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem. The treacherous, though not deadly, obstacles that stand between the entrance and the vault are designed to prove to yourself that you are ready to become a better person. These obstacles include cutting through a dense thicket, swimming across a river with an extremely powerful current, and navigating a pitch black labyrinth where torches do not stay lit. A requirement for this journey is that you come alone. The vault will not open if more than one person are present. The Steel Plate is not a treasure. It cannot be stolen, and if you did somehow manage to remove it, it would be worthless outside of the vault. The plate was created to show its viewer three things. The first vision that it will show you is your deepest depression; your lowest point; that time in your life you thought you would never get through, but did. The second vision is of your greatest accomplishment; the success you had that made you feel the best about yourself; the one that nobody can take away from you. The third and final vision is a glance into the future. You will see a hint at what life could be for you as long as you work hard and become a productive member of society. The purpose of the Steel Plate is to give you encouragement and perspective for your life. It is its intention that you leave the vault knowing that, even though you have faced hard times, there is still hope for you to find your bliss. But it is not the plate itself that will ultimately cause you to become determined to make better decisions. It is the persistence through the obstacles that make the most impact on your future. It is estimated that roughly nine out of ten people who make it all the way through to the vault end up seeing the obstacles they just completed as the vision of their greatest accomplishment in the Steel Plate of Algamoritha.

Microstory 208: Alarming

When I moved into this house two years ago, many of the previous owner’s belongings were left behind. Hangers, gas detectors, and blinds were there, as one might expect. But there were also buckets, a fairly nice set of knives, and a full dining room set tucked away in a corner of the basement. I shrugged it off and let it go. I replaced the gas detectors with those that I could monitor with my smartphone, but I utilized everything else. One night, I was taking a bath and watching television when I began to hear consistent beeping; several minutes in between each one. It didn’t sound like what I thought my detectors were supposed to sound like, but perhaps I just misremembered. I stood under the main floor smoke detector and waited. When the beep came once more, I could tell that it wasn’t that one. I crouched down to the carbon monoxide detector, but it wasn’t that either. I opened the door to the basement, hoping that I wouldn’t have to go down, but when the beep came, I couldn’t be sure. Irritated, I slipped on some socks and shoes and walked down the steps. Not that one either, but maybe there was an old detector in there that I hadn’t noticed. There was an alarming number of smoke detector wall connections, most of which weren’t in use when I arrived, so that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. I shone my flashlight, looking for it, all the while running into cobwebs. Another beep, but I was sure now that it was from upstairs. I went back up and continued to look for the source. A childhood nightlight my parents had me take even though I had no use for it? Of course not. My electronic book reader? Not a chance. I hadn’t picked that up in months, so it was well dead. This thing I don’t know what it is? Still can’t identify it, but no. Then I thought to check the antique chest I use as a coffee table. Inside were boardgames, quilts, and stuff I forgot about. When I opened it, I found all the old smoke detectors. I recklessly cracked one open. Now, I’m no electrician, but I found both the logic board for the detector, and what I could only describe as a bug. Someone had been spying on the previous owners. I was astonished and frightened. As I was inspecting it, the beep came once more, but not from the bug. It was above me, in the ceiling fan. I stood on the chest and reached up to a small video camera. As I drew it down, it interacted with the radio waves surrounding my phone, which meant that the camera was still operational, and even sending out a signal. I was the one being monitored.

Microstory 207: Miniature Library

Lucille walked by a certain tree nearly every day after moving to a new neighborhood. In her mind, she knew that attached to it was a miniature library where she could trade books as she pleased, but her thoughts were always elsewhere, and she always ignored it. Then one day, she got to thinking about how she had always intended to read Moby Dick, but just never got around to it. Knowing that it was a long shot, Lucille stopped at the mini library and began to browse. Most of the books were short romance novels and pulp fiction; none of the classics, and no Moby Dick. She sighed and was about to leave, deciding that if the universe wanted to read the book, it would have provided it for her. Just then, another woman came from the opposite direction holding a book, supposedly with the intention of swapping it out for something else. Upon closer inspection, Lucille realized that it was none other than the exact book she was looking for, and an old edition from the looks of it. Miranda had been reading books out of the mini library for years. In fact, she would read one at least once a week. No matter what, if a book had been left in there that she had not yet read, even if she didn’t like the genre, she would take it. This particular book, however, was hers, passed down from her late grandmother. They got to talking to each other and discovered that they had much in common. Despite being avid exercise walkers, they had somehow never seen each other around the neighborhood, or at least had not noticed. They both loved to read the classics, but did so less often than they would care to admit. They were also into surface water sports like surfing and water skiing, and had moved from the east coast. They parted ways after talking for almost half an hour, Miranda with a technical manual someone had probably left as a joke, and Lucille finally with Moby Dick. After that day, however, they continued to encounter each other often on their respective walks, sometimes miles from the neighborhood. A couple of months later, they went out together on their first date. It was at a library, of course.