Bear Rose

THE GAME

Counting out her antipsychotics in delicate rows of six across the lacquered rosewood desk hidden deep within the town’s only book shop, the young woman confirmed she had taken two of the heart-shaped tablets earlier this morning. She wasn’t hallucinating. Her gaze slowly panned back to the petite black leather-bound book on her right beside her new bamboo reusable coffee cup. She had found it tightly wedged between Neil Gaiman and Benjamin Alire Sáenz while browsing the stacks; so thin she hadn’t seen it at first glance. Her secret administrator had taste.