Talking Heads The Book I Read Novels & Stories

I said aloud reading out the title from a chapter I had been skimming through over the last couple of days. I had picked the book up while going for groceries and at first I had been drawn to the colors of the book and the Afro-American author at the back when I picked it up but reading it now had open my eyes to a whole lot of things, Jane had called it brainwashing but i I didn't care if my brains were shining sparkling white after I was done with it. Just then the front door opened and I heard people chattering. I had been so lost in thought that I had forgotten about Jane's instructions earlier this morning.

I had been at it for hours, my neck aching from hunching over the book. So far, I had found nothing of note. I was just about to close the book and call it a night when I flipped to the next chapter and read the title. “A Case Study in Neurodegeneration.”

Somewhere in it, Jeremy Torrence was doing whatever Jeremy Torrence did with his evenings, sending messages into a phone he thought still had power over me, believing he lived inside my head. He did, still. Some days more than others. But he was sharing the space now. With a man who'd spent months finding a first edition of my favorite book because I'd mentioned it once in a conversation about hypothetical fires. I turned the page. And for the first time in a long time, the voice in my head was my own.

I stood in the food writing aisle and held the fermentation book and listened to the bell above the door as he left. Then I looked at the page I'd been on. Read the rest of the chapter. Bought the book. --- I did not mention the bookstore to Gavin. Not that day. Not the following week. Not because I was hiding it. Nothing had happened that required hiding. Because I didn't know how to explain the specific texture of it — the easy familiar quality of talking about books in an aisle, the sentence about remembering things I said, the coffee I had declined — without it sounding like something it wasn't.

The way I had smiled while something inside me recoiled. I crossed the room and pulled a familiar book from the shelf. Little Women. The spine was worn. Soft. My fingers knew it without looking. I settled into the armchair near the window and opened it to a random page. I read the same paragraph three times without absorbing a word. My thoughts kept drifting. Not to the reporters. Not to the headlines that would probably follow. To Jacob. The way he had looked at me the night before, torn between want and restraint. The way his voice had changed when he admitted he was afraid of himself. The way he touched me like I was something precious, not something to be displayed.

she said to herself. The fourth book begins at chapter 1 in Paris. The End.

he responds vaguely. "I didn’t know what I was getting into when I got this book. Ever since I got it, I haven’t been able to open it again. I was scared and running away from my destiny, and then the crazy woman from my dreams started talking to me," I continue. "Wait a minute. She talks now?"

Evelyn walked ahead of them to the administrative block where she got all they needed — The forms they had to fill and other miscellaneous stuff. While she was there, Joseph and Mira settled under a canopy quietly. Mira had her head propped on Joseph's shoulders, while the other read a book on Kindle.. The book was titled, seven habits of highly effective people by covey Stephen. He'd been on it for days now and couldn't stop feeling super excited about all he'd read and obviously couldn't wait to put it into practice. The silence between them was disrupted when a figure appeared in front of them. “ Hello, guys. ” Mira opened her eyes to look at her, while Joseph simply raised his head up

Not yet. I turned onto my side, eyes landing on my nightstand. The book I’d finished last two weeks still sat there—Haunting Adeline. It had been a ride, to say the least. Dark, twisted, and completely unhinged. I grabbed the book and traced the cover absentmindedly, my mind still spinning from the way it had ended. And Zade? God. That man was insane, but in the best way. I couldn't even count how many times I had to pause and process the things he said.

"Medication. Noise-canceling headphones. And I read the same book every time I fly." "The same book?" "The same book. It's about the history of maritime trade routes. Completely boring. But familiar enough that it keeps my brain occupied without requiring so much l concentration." I almost smiled. "That's so unexpected." "I know. But you asked." The waiter came back and we ordered. I got whatever pasta he recommended, and he got fish. When we were alone again I said, "My turn. What do you want to know?" "Why biotech?" "That's boring."