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Piggy
It was a room completely and utterly full of books.
If she'd been asked previously how it was, exactly, a room could be completely and utterly full of books, she would have been at a loss for words. She probably would have made that fish mouth she makes when she's at a loss for words, which she hates, especially as it was pointed out by a rather unpleasant acquaintance whom she always suspected had some sort of attraction to her, yet showed it in the rudest possible of ways. Namely by sitting there, wherever they happened, unfortunately, to be attending at the same time, flicking his lighter in her direction in the most annoying way possible, like he was some sort of mob boss in a bad musical representation of a mob boss whose special gimmick was flicking his lighter constantly in the most annoying way possible.
Okay, so maybe it wasn't the rudest possible of ways.
Regardless, she hated the fish mouth thing she did, which this guy first brought to her attention, which she apparently did when she was at a loss for words because she'd either been stumped or mortally offended in some way or another. For which she hated the fish mouth thing even more.
However, now, she could happily report, and she was a reporter, that's what she did, report stuff. Often throwing herself in harm's way, in fact, to report. Little did people know, more than worrying about getting the scoop, more than holding some deeply cultivated respect for her viewers and readers, her primary motive for getting some sort of a story out of a situation was to avoid the fish mouth showing up either on video or on someone's camera at the scene of the reporting. As her career thus far had only covered local town council meetings out in the 'burbs and the occasional ye olde fayre she wasn't quite so often in harm's way, and she did almost literally have to throw herself in harm's way because there was no way one of those fat old councilmen was going to come barreling over and knock her down or anything. They weren't the most sprightly of people.
But this, now this took her breath away.
Books from every corner of the room oozed out the walls almost, not so much neatly stacked as organically growing out of the very walls, slumping towards the door, the one place in the room not bookified. She felt as if she were a tiny villager in the face of a river of molten lava gullumphing slowly towards Bethlehem.
She wondered if books were especially good at trapping oxygen, as it was really difficult getting her breath back. Almost too difficult.
This is when she noticed that her host had disappeared from behind her, and the room that she stood in, at the threshold of the book room, with its' pristine interior and plastic edges, looked completely and utterly sealed.
She was having quite the day for certainties.
She was hoping, and not entirely certain at all, however, that the whooshing noise coming from the one vent above the door was not, in fact, the sound of a vacuum sucking all the air out of the room...
to be continued...
disclaimer:
This is not our fault.
So we went to Sunnyvale and, more importantly, In-N-Out Burger.
So we imagine you might be gathered here to find out why. Why it is we're leaving sunny (lately) England and taking up with the down and out crowd in Silicon Valley, California.
Well, our software guys told us to do it, really.
And because we like following trends, six years or so late.
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Yer Weekly Horoscopes.