Book Selfish Novels & Stories

It was Damian Knight’s voice when he said, “You belong to me.” Because a part of her believed him. And a darker part didn’t want to argue. She stood restlessly and wandered the room. Her fingers trailed along the bookshelves. Most were hardbound. Thick, glossy, untouched. Titles like Power & Play, Behavioral Strategy, and Psychology of Loyalty. One book was crooked. She tilted her head. It was the only one not aligned with the rest. She reached out. Pulled it. Nothing happened. No secret door. No dramatic reveal.

An old bookstore with a faded sign. I went inside the bookstore. The smell of old paper and dust filled my nose. Shelves crammed with books nobody wanted anymore. A gray cat sleeping on the counter. "Can I help you?" The owner appeared from behind a stack of books. Old. Friendly. Completely uninterested in who I was or what I did. "Just looking," I said. "Take your time. The good ones are usually hiding." I browsed for twenty minutes. Not looking for anything specific. Just existing in a space that had nothing to do with business or therapy or growth.

Inside, the world learned to whisper. Sasha drifted past the tables of new releases and bright covers. A staff recommendation card propped under a novel promised “a heroine you’ll ache for.” She smiled at that—envy, maybe; exhaustion, certainly. She chose something thick with a map on the first page and a promise of a different kind of kingdom. The cashier, a teenager with soft blue hair and nails bitten to the quick, bagged it and didn’t look twice at the man in the suit hovering nearby. Bless the oblivious and underpaid.

Just occupying my own body without apologizing for the space it took up. At a small bookshop on the corner I stopped on impulse and went in. The smell of paper and ink and warm indoor air folded around me immediately. I moved between the shelves slowly, reading titles with genuine curiosity, picking things up and putting them down and picking up other things, with no sense of hurrying or having to justify the time. Eventually I chose a plain-covered journal and carried it to the counter. The cashier smiled. "New project?" "Something like that," I said. "Yes."

“What do you do? What’s your story?” I hesitated, unused to being the center of attention in a room like this. “Well… I finished school not long ago, but I took this job to save up. I want to own my own business one day.” Isabel’s brows lifted. “Oh? What kind of business?” I glanced at my fork, twirling it slightly. “A bookstore. I love and write books… I want to create a space where people can enjoy reading, where stories matter—A small publishing firm, hopefully,” I admitted.

“Then I’m going to let everybody know why you’re really here.” “I’m not your servant.” “No, you’re my father’s servant. Keep that in mind, or else I might have to tell him you’re flirting with girls while you’re here.” “You think that was flirting?” His nasty laughter rings out. “You have no idea.” “I do know a few things.” I find the last of my textbooks and drop it on the pile he’s carrying. “I guess that’s it. Let’s get out of here. I could use a cup of coffee.” There’s a coffee shop next to the bookstore, so we head there after I use my student ID to put my textbooks on the account Dad set up for me.

I said, grinning from teeth to teeth like a child. We walked into the library. It looked like it had been a while, since it was in use. We went through several sections which included, finance, self-improvement, ethics, business amongst all. I caught a glimpse of a book I had been wanting to read, “Atomic Habits” by James Clear. I picked it immediately, and started going through it. After a while, I noticed I wasn't hearing any sound from the cook. I looked around and found her wiping tears off her eyes with the hem of her apron.

"I'm glad you do. But I must tell you this; it's going to be hard. It's not going to be easy. You'd feel like bailing and you'd feel like a shitty person. We all are at a point in our lives before we heal. So when you come the day after tomorrow, I want you to come with every baggage you can carry and we will offload as much as we can to make you feel lighter by the time you return home, okay?" I nodded. She picked a book and handed it over to me. "This is a book I wrote last year: The Abstractness of The Mental. I give it out for free to my patients as I like to call you all." I laughed and nodded before looking down at the book. It had a glossy feeling to it and a picture of the brain and

she said and lay back onto her bed. I sat on the other side, my feet hanging off the side of the king size bed. I glanced at Sienna and I saw that her top had ridden up slightly, so I was now seeing her toned and very flat stomach. Fuck me. "I take it you haven't read this book," I said as I held the book up in my hand. She chuckled. "It is called How To Not Be A Bitch. Rocco gave it to me. I personally think he needs it more than I do," she said.

What am I doing? And this is not about Richard, by the way. It’s absolutely unrelated. It’s simply my life. I need … I don’t know. A new direction. A different energy. There’s a book lying on a nearby chair and I reach for it. It’s called The Reverse Principle: Change Your Business Strategy Forever, and 10 million copies sold!! is stamped across the cover.