Face Of Book Romane & Geschichten

Nathan shrugged his shoulder in a manner of surrender. What it can be? Face? what does even that line mean? Think! Think! What it can be? Come on. You can do it. You can't give up, now. "I don't know, but face for me. is like a book of a human body, where you can get to know everything, just by the look of it. " That's it books!

After setting the now visible book back on the desk, which thankfully didn’t make it disappear once more, I smack at the hands fawning over me to get the two overprotective men off of me. “My nose is healed.” I grumble. “Now get off of me.” I run my fingers over my face, letting out a gasp when my hand comes back covered in blood. “Does it look that bad?” I ask, turning towards Kenji who I know won’t lie to me. “It definitely doesn’t look pretty.” He tells me, touching my face softly to reassure himself that I am okay. “What happened?” He asks, dropping his hand from my face. “It was like the book weighed a ton.” I turn to the book, my face scrunched up in displeasure. “When I gave the book

What other response could she give to a face like that? “Here’s the world book! Let me know if you need anything else!” A thick book appeared in front of them. The cream hardcover shone like the surface of a pearl. The letters and edges appeared as though they were lined with gold foil. It was the most exquisite book she had ever laid eyes on, much less touch. What story could it possibly contain? 'My True Soulmate.’

A charmer with a spine of steel. Why do all the good ones end up dead or betrayed? I turned the page, and there he was, his sketch. He had this strong face, sharp nose, eyes like he could see straight through bullshit. Something about him felt… familiar. Oddly familiar. I leaned in just a little, curious, The door flung open. “Jesus!” I flinched so hard the book nearly flew out of my lap. “Relax,” Christian’s familiar voice filled the space. “Didn’t mean to give you a heart attack.”

I returned a favoring smile to her by doing it genuinely before I took the book on her soft palm, an almost thick book with a blue cover. The book is heavy. On the front cover, there is a closed eye with long black thick lashes in a form of feathers placed inside a pentagon. Outside the badge has a wonderful abstract ocean and sunrise. Below it, golden embossed letters are shining to make its cover spectacular: BOOK OF A ZONER "Begin reading from page two to page five," Psyche said to me, stopping me in amazement. So I did what she wanted me to do. I flipped the pages until I reached the second page of the book. I started reading what's on it.

I sit to read but I just didn't find it interesting, I returned it and pick another one, I opened it and began to flip the pages and think it's not my kind of book. I pick another one and try to flip it through and it fell from me, I was going to pick up the book when two pictures fell out from it. I pick the books and pictures and take a look at the pictures, I was shocked at the picture I saw and I checked the other and it was the same face, the same way he had smiled before asking us to have sex in the car that he had smiled in the picture. I try to think back to the face, the way we stood and talk, the way he stared at me after the sex and ask me never to do this with any man again.

I had the urge to touch it, so I reached forward for it. "I wouldn't touch that if I were you," I jerked at the gruff voice and turned around. It was an old woman with grey asymmetric Bob hair and beautiful brown skin. She held a walking stick with a snake's head and red eyes. She wasn't green, blue, or decapitated like the others, she looked like a real woman. "That book might be titled 'NAMES', but it is not a good book. Those five letters stand for something, terrible things. Open that book and you won't love what you will see,"

The Reader stumbled backward. Their faceless hood twisted violently, body bending in impossible angles. “You’re not supposed to hesitate!” they gasped. Liora clutched the book to her chest. “Then maybe this isn’t the final chapter.” “You can’t stop what’s been written,” the Reader hissed. “You can’t outrun the ending!” The floor cracked beneath them, Not ground, But text, Pages of her life peeling apart like skin, And rising from between them, Was a figure made entirely of titles. No face, No features.

She walked into the library, took one look at my face and sat down with the energy of someone who had already decided how this conversation was going. “Did something happen?,” she said smiling widely at me. “Good afternoon Rosa,” I said. “Don’t good afternoon me.” She leaned forward. “You have a look on your face.” “I always have a look on my face. It’s called having a face.” “Not this look.” She tilted her head. “This is the something happened look.” I kept my eyes on my book. “Oriana.” “Nothing happened Rosa.” “But almost.” I turned a page I hadn’t read.

She wasn't there; she didn't see it happen when I watched my shadow snap his neck in self-defense. "You’re not sure," I counter. "I am," she insists, her gaze steady and full of reassurance, almost making me feel foolish for fearing a book. Taking a deep breath, I finally open the book. It seems to anticipate my needs, flipping pages on its own until it stops at a peculiar drawing—a girl with long hair standing hands on hips, with her shadow beside her, rendered in dark charcoal as if to mirror her.