1101 Park Avenue Book Novels & Stories

It all kept nagging at me. I was aware of where Alan lived. He didn't mention it outright, but I caught the return address on his completed form for the protest permit. I didn't bring it up then, but I hoped for that information now. The one at 211 West 146th was older, red-brick, with narrow steps and a lone cracked buzzer panel. I called the number for 4D, but no one responded. I waited and called again, but there was still nothing. My heart sank. But then, just as I turned to go, the door creaked open—manually. Someone had opened buzzed us in

I suggested, already forgetting about the creepy thing that just happened. “It’s in the opposite direction, let’s just ask the driver to take us there” We walked to the parking lot, instructed the driver and he drove us to the library. Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the library. “What book are you looking for?” The librarian asked once she saw us searching through the shelves. “The hidden reality by Brian Greene” Pearl replied. I couldn’t care less of what the book was all about, so I went through the shelves where romantic and erotic books that’ll fuel my fantasies more, picked one and borrowed it together with the whatever that Henry had needed.