Book Selfish Novels & Stories

Lena felt no need to synchronize with any of them. She stopped at a bookstore she hadn’t visited before. Inside, the shelves were uneven, the lighting imperfect. She wandered slowly, letting titles catch her eye without obligation. She picked up a book, read the first page, then put it back. She picked up another and bought it without second-guessing whether she’d “get through it.” She trusted herself now to read or not without judgment. At the register, the cashier smiled. “Good choice,” they said. Lena smiled back. “We’ll see.”

I swallowed the fruit, my brain immediately running a frantic diagnostic on my life. My bank account was currently in a vegetative state, and the thought of a bookstore was dangerous. I knew exactly what would happen. I’d see a row of beautiful, expensive teaching references and my self-control would crumble like a stale cookie. But looking at Alana’s expectant face was like looking at a puppy through a rainy window. “Actually, I...” I bit my lip, trying to find a graceful exit strategy. “I’m trying to be disciplined with my savings, Gareth. If I set foot in a bookstore, I might lose my mind and my money.”

The bell above the bookstore door jingles, and I decide—right then and there—that it’s too cheerful for the kind of day I’m having. I flip the sign from OPEN to CLOSED knowing that the customers will ignore it and come in anyway. Luca doesn’t look up from the ledger. “Professional,” he says mildly. “I contain multitudes,” I reply, leaning over the counter. “Mostly sarcasm and unresolved trauma.” “Shocking.” The bookstore smells like paper and espresso and calm. Which is a cruel joke, really, because calm is not something I’m currently familiar with. Calm is something other people get. People whose girlfriends don’t have homicidal fathers currently enjoying the perks of being at large.

Julian Blackwood didn't believe in *kindness*. He believed in **results**. In **control**. In **winning**. And yet as he stood in the midst of *Chapter & Soul* bookstore, with Lena Carter's soft voice still lingering at the edges of his mind like morning mist, something strange tangled deep in his chest. "*Maybe you should start,"* she had breathed. An effortless sentence. Soft, nearly shy. But it had hit harder than any boardroom betrayal or market crash he'd ever faced.

I blushed, shook my head, and cleared my throat. “I mean, I’ve been planning to give you since you solved the assignment. The book is very important, it costs the owner’s life.” “What?” he asked in surprise. He’s too young to know the story of the book. The book isn’t popular because it’s the author’s first book. He was a psychologist and also labelled a psychopath. What he wrote in the book was facts about human nature, how to read people and how to make them respect you at all costs as their boss.

I ask and Everett shrugs. "Fuck if I know." He says, grabbing something else from his bag. "Can you believe these bookmarks they gave us?" He asks, showing me the pink tasseled piece of cardboard with the words 'Smut Slut' written in gold leafing displayed proudly on both sides. "If we're gonna do it, we might as well go all in." I say, looking at my own bookmark that says 'Emotionally attached to a morally grey character' in loopy font. At least mine's black.

so here we saw a change. They talked... they hide their feelings... but there is some progress.. isn't it? Share your thoughts, and do add my new book SAMSON- MAFIA AND HIS THERAPIST... 17 chapter are free.. to read... I promise you will see the pain in their love story too... he is insomniac and she came as his therapist...

ALEXA'S POV I turned to the employee and blushed as I was taking up the small path to the next shelves. "Sorry," I mumbled as I put the book back in its shelf and went to the clothes rack to buy a few items. I took a few tops and bottom, then made my way to the counter to see the same employee. "The book you held a while ago was from an old orphanage home, alot of people take that book with them but only to come back weeks later to tell me they don't want it," I chuckled along with the man and took my stuff to leave.

In the end, the inquisitive one won but first, I listened for footsteps and when I could make out none, I got off the bed and went for the book, flicking its first page open. The only person who could give me a book was Zena but it was also weird, what kind of book it was. It wasn’t the usual one we both read and enjoyed. It was some sort of self-help book and its title was even more weird. “Kicking trauma’s butt with style!”

" But there must be some or the other way through which we can get rid of this book”, I asked him “ Yes there is only one and single way to get rid of this book that is to burn it down but then your life won't be same as it was earlier and the incidence which have occurred with you during the reading of this book won't resurrect self for example if you are saying like you have lost your friend during reading of this book so if you want this book then most probably your friend is never going to come back”, he told me