Her

I am sure that I saw it there. Last time I peaked it most definitely was there. Strapped to her thigh and perfectly balanced within her garter was the little nuance of a book. That stupid black book, the book that caused me all this grief, the book in which I now had to ever so kindly relieve this woman of.

My eyes coldly narrowed on her leg and without realizing I remembered how odd and impolite staring at a woman’s thigh must be, I shifted my weight uncomfortably as I realized this wasn’t going to be easy.

I casually plucked a book off the shelf in front of me and stuck my nose in it only to slightly peek out the top. She was still there. I continued to cast my gaze upward as I realized she was staring directly at me. Not good. I fumbled the book and it came down crashing onto the bookshelves on its way down to the ground. The loud sound of the book connecting with the floor left everyone in the cafe gazing at me. Even the barista continued to pour her ingredients on herself while straining to see my blunder. The silence pierced my heart as I began to panic.

I awkwardly stood there, frozen unsure of exactly what to do. I forced out a laugh and began to back away slowly. Not even two steps into my retreat, the back of my head connected with the bookshelf with a definite clap. I whipped around and watched in horror as the bookshelf began its slow journey towards the floor. My eyes grew wider as I waited for the impending sound to ricochet through the already silent room, but it never came. I blinked and straightened in confusion.

The cafe was back to its bustling noise. The barista called out names with the sound of the machines whirring in the background, the customers quietly chattering and crunching on pastries. No one was staring at me, there was no silence, and worst of all, the bookshelf stood tall next to me, unmoved. I turned my head to see if she was still looking at me. She was gone. I frantically looked around and came to the conclusion that no one seemed to be affected by this apparent glitch.

The horror began to sink in as I glanced at the bookshelf. The book I had been holding, was now perfectly in the slot in which I pulled it from minutes ago. My blood ran cold and still frozen, I decided that I needed to breathe before I passed out. I slowly began to bring my body into this reality, what was happening? Am I going crazy? I gripped the shelf in front of me and drew in a long breath. I shakily reached for my bag and drew out my notepad.

2:52: I do not know what happened. Target has disappeared. Black book not recovered.

In my scribbled, shaky, handwriting I felt like this was the only thing I could do to anchor me to this moment. I placed my notebook back in my bag and began to approach the barista to ask where my target might have scrambled off to. I began to take out my wallet to buy a drink when I looked up to see a notepad in my hand, the bookshelf directly in front of me. And the note:

2:52: I do not know what happened. Target has disappeared. Black book not recovered.

I am going insane. Is this not what I wrote 30 seconds ago? I forcefully checked my watch, 2:52. What? My mind is racing with a million thoughts. Have I not slept enough? Am I thirsty? What exactly is happening? I stare at the bookshelf in front of me.

Now in the place in which the book I pulled from only minutes ago, well now I am not so sure, was a tiny, black book. My eyes widened as I snatched it off the shelf and turned away from the people sitting in the cafe. I hurriedly opened the book and square in the middle of one of the pages read:

Nice try.

I slammed the book shut. I guess I’m exactly $456,769 richer with this in my possession. Time to take this dastardly book in. I snapped my head up only to see her boot covering my vision as everything went black.