Book Best Served Cold Novels & Stories

she turned away from me again, running her fingers down the spines of a few water-warped novels. You. "The one behind my desk," I answered. "It's my favorite." Evelyn looked over my desk at the worn down novel, the years and years of use made it delicate. She stroked a gentle finger over the cover. "It looks well-loved." "Do you have a favorite book, Evelyn?" I asked, leaning back at the table, our dirty dishes stacked neatly, ready for a cabin boy to take them away in the morning. She glanced at me from over her shoulder, a smile pulling on the corners of her lips. A devious smirk that screamed indignance. "I do. It's called, 'The Art of Profanity'."

If I wanted peace, I had to make sure every dish was perfect. *** I was rather proud of myself for reaching my target. I managed to cook every dish, including the salads and the desserts, on time and return to my nook after taking a quick plunge in the lake. The cold water wasn’t soothing, but at least it washed away the sweat and all the dirty smells off of me. All I desired to do was dry myself, wear a clean set of clothes, pick up my favourite book—Tell Me Your Dreams by Sidney Sheldon—and sit on my ‘bed.’