Length Of A Book Novels & Stories

My legs carry me inside, passing the shelves lined with books, stalking around the table, my fingers trailing over the smooth surface as I walk. My fingers paused on the worn edge of a familiar book with a crescent moon carved at the front, the one with no name. Picking it up, fall into the chair. I roll backward then turn around, with one hand, I push back the curtain, popped a foot under me, and I get comfortable, and start reading. The book is a short one, I finish it in an hour and a half, and I remain staring at the book afterward.