A Lady Reading A Book Novels & Stories

I looked at it for a long time. Then the library. Bent over an open book, both hands pressing flat on the page, her weight leaning into the text. The focused intensity of someone who cared about the words, not how she looked reading them. Her hair was tied back in this one, a loose knot, two strands falling forward across her cheek. She hadn't pushed them back. I turned to the third photograph.

she began to go on, “not a surprise since she’d always say her kind of paradise would be a library.” “So if you want, you can go upstairs to read that book you’re holding,” said someone beside me, her voice soft and light like a caress of a feather. I craned my neck to see a woman with unruly hair as red as blood and bright blue eyes, pointing her index finger up. “Only for a maximum of three hours for one book. Once the time is up, we will begin to charge you ten lums per hour," she told me with a set face.

But the fresh smell of paint suppressed all other smells. “Good evening, kid. Which book are you searching for? Tell me. Maybe I can help in searching,” A fragile yet gentle female voice asked him from behind. Nicolas didn’t notice anyone around him so the sudden voice of the lady startled him. He immediately looked back to see the person and found that exactly from where the reading area started there she was sitting in a neat and clean desk with an opened book, holding in her slender hand. Her teal eyes that looked, as if everyone she sees are encyclopedias that she needs to finish reading. Dead pool of blues that was following every movement of every single person in the library. Exactly

The complete ‘Girl-Next-Door’ package. As I walk into the library I can see her across the room, sitting on her own in one of the dark red chesterfield chairs. Her legs tucked in beneath her, you can see the exposed skin from the holes in her jeans where she cut them and replaced the holes underneath with lace to give it texture. I can’t see the book she’s reading, only her face as she brushes back her long dark hair behind her ear to read better – not that it did a lot of good, her hair is long and wavy and tends to fall back into place easily.

Elle wiped the wax away with a hand as steady as stone. Rounding the bend, Elaine stopped in her tracks. In the center of the room was a woman with eyes the color of ash. She glanced their way for a moment, but then resumed to her book. The volume she was reading was massive, maybe as large as Elaine. It was leather-bound and intricately sewn. The book rested atop a cherry wood table that towered in the old library. The woman stood behind the podium; her old, but unworked hands, smoothing out the precious pages.

All humans in this room are so serious and here I am looking for a free novel to read, bumping the ladder and making noise. "That's quite an ice-breaker..." says a soft voice behind me. I turn around to see a smiling lady in a sweet floral dress. I look at her from head to toe, unsure if she is really the type to approach an isolated one like me. She is carrying books with her which she pulls up to avoid from falling as she arranges the spectacles that cover almost half of her small face. "Do I know you?" I ask politely in a low volume. "We're in the same class with Mrs. Baldwin," she says. I nod unconsciously realizing how her looks match a typical history major college student.

"Done." Meanwhile, in the midst of a forest stood a three-story house, neatly concealed and distant from the City. A lady in her fifties was scanning a picture book with a big grin on her face in the vast gloomy room painted with black and glass-walled facing the forest. She seemed peaceful and pleased, reminiscing about the memories in each photo. Her voluminous haircut with light straight fringe in a bob cut, natural blonde, and highlights make her aura more alluring despite her age. Her emerald eyes glisten as she checks each page of the album, humming a lullaby that matches her mood.

Windsor appeared at seven, as she did every morning. "Will you be needing anything else, ma'am?" "No. Thank you, Mrs. Windsor." Elara finished her coffee and decided that today, she would read a book. Not a journal, not a warning from a dead woman. A real book. Something trashy and romantic and completely detached from her own life. “I deserve one day of peace at least.” --- The library was smaller than the one she'd met Alexander in. That one had been all dark wood and fireplaces and conversations about cover stories. This one was softer. The windows faced the gardens, and the morning light was golden and warm and poured across the reading chairs like honey.

With her wedding approaching, she became the center of attention. Whenever people spoke about me now, they simply shook their heads. “Lady Leanora… What a waste of her title as the Royal City’s finest noble lady.” “Exactly. She’s beautiful, elegant, educated, and skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. However, with a sister like that beside her, what can she offer?” One day, Rosalind cornered me in the study and pressed her hand down on my brush.

She was also young and almost at the age of early twenties. The blonde woman nods in response. “I, certainly, am, your ladyship,” she replied with a refreshing smile on her face. Her cheeks were naturally turning into light pinch of pink in doing so. Even Lady Margaret couldn’t believe she was just an ordinary woman working in the flea market.