It was the first time she’d been granted access to the old basement vault. A treat for this newly retired librarian.
She perused the stacks of rare, leatherbound books until one whispered to her. A thick tome with a rose-colored binding.
She brushed away years of dust and cracked it open, flipping through its fragile pages.
But the more she read, the more her skin tingled.
She quickly returned the book to the shelf. Her hands shook, her breathing labored.
Unnerving to find a detailed account of your entire life.
Worse to find out there’s only one empty page left.
The Weekday One Hundred 