Things You Need
Choosing which to read was a pleasing difficulty.
He shook the eight ball with one hand, smiling. “What’s it going to be?” he whispered, running his other hand along the spines of books on his tightly packed shelf. “Some ghost stories, today?”
The white polyhedron, suspended in liquid turned murky with age, jiggled as it revealed: Future is Hazy.
John chuckled as he returned his attention to the books before him. “Story of my life,” he whispered. “Story of my . . . ”
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