Woman Reading A Book Novels & Stories

They might have an idea of who collects Renae's notes. There's only one woman in here today. Anna. A middle aged woman with a constant sneer on her face, and said sneer is currently directed at me. I don't bother with her, going straight for the shelf. I feign searching for one of my favoured romance tomes. I take out one, set it on the table and begin my search for the next. I turn back once and when I'm certain the woman isn't staring, I take out Renae's book and flip the pages. It's...empty.

That simple but alluring woman he saw at the cafeteria who was watching porn, in day light. What is she doing in the middle of the crowd? Randall was so confused he approached the woman who was all out smiling while a large group of women, holding books were so ecstatic to see her. Some were patiently waiting for their turn to approach the woman. Curiosity kills him big time, he approached at the crowd. The woman was behind the long table clothed in white together with other entities he doesn’t know who. He was about to walk near the table to ask what is going on, when a young lady block his way.

Just like that? Her hazel eyes are so dark, she’s not smiling like the rest of them, my mother is beside her, her wavy brown hair cascading down her shoulders. My father is stoic, though there’s a little hard smile playing on the corner of his lips. Is there more to their gang that I don’t know about? Who’s the woman? And, why won’t no body talk about her? What the fuck did she actually do? The woman’s holding a book, clearly etched on her hand, as though no one should know the content. I stare at it, confused, and angry.

She stood on the chain bridge for a while, but she grew bored very soon and decided to enter the book house. There was a lady dressed in a dress managing the book house. Her dress was as green as a tea leaf, and there were exquisite flowers embroidered on it. She seemed to be around 35 years old. Her hair was tied up into a bun while her skin seemed very fair and smooth, making her look mature yet traditional at the same time. The lady boss sat at the front desk while she read a book. There was a cup of coffee placed beside her hand, and upon seeing that someone had entered the house, she froze. Clearly, she did not expect to have guests at this moment.

Our first real exchange, and it fits. She takes out a book, slips the bookmark free, and falls into her page. Sometimes she jots something into that little diary of hers, but mostly it’s reading. She doesn’t take her phone out. Not once. Everyone else here lives bent over a screen, chewing food with their eyes locked on glowing glass. But she sits, spine loose, hair falling forward, a book opening in her lap. Paper and ink. Her thumb presses the crease like she is afraid of breaking it. She reads, mouth moving just enough to shape silent words.

Without a word, Irene moved toward one of the shelves and began scanning the spines, her fingers trailing along the dusty titles. After a moment, she pulled out a thick volume bound in deep wine-red leather, its cover dulled with age and a layer of dust. Frederick instinctively reached out to take it from her, but she swatted his hand away with a sharp glance. She carried it to the nearest table and lowered herself into a chair. “Sit,” she ordered. We obeyed. The old woman was flipping through the pages of the ancient book. She read carefully, page by page her sharp eyes scanning the text, though I had no idea what exactly she was looking for.

As my fingers reached the book, a person's hand reached the book from my right side. A sturdy woman stood before me, adjusting her glasses as our gazes met. Her eyes—sharp, observant—narrowed as she took me in. She took a glance at the book and then to me before scanning me whether she could recognize me or not. She looked like she was in her mid-thirty, beautiful and strong. "What’s your name?" The first thing she asked, her eyes were on my clothes... or rather I say Halia's clothes. There was something about her presence. Something unsettling yet undeniably powerful.

The late afternoon sun streamed through the wide windows of the sitting room, casting a golden hue over the plush furniture. It was a saturday. Nova sat comfortably in one of the armchairs, her legs curled up beneath her as she immersed herself in a thick book. The room was silent save for the soft rustle of pages turning and the chewing sounds she made as she ate some popcorn. Nova was deeply engrossed in her reading, a non-fiction book on business strategies that she had picked up on a whim.

My name was Mandy Smith, and I was a hotel receptionist. At the same time, I was a lonely wife. My husband had not touched me in a long time. I had strong desires, and a long period of abstinence had left me squirming with discomfort. I looked at myself in the mirror. Men usually loved my full chest and beautiful bottom. However, whenever I wanted to seduce my husband with all my tricks, he would only glance at me coldly before turning around and sleeping.

The head maid panickly said when she saw the beautiful woman coming here. She strolls the library effortlessly, with her confident walk, gorgeous face, and body. Not to mention how she has an on-the-point fashion sense, though. "It's okay, I'm just going to get a book. I'm just really excited to read it because I saw Simoun reading it yesterday." the woman, Aileen, smiled invigoratingly. I froze. Simoun? Why is he excited just because he saw Simoun read the book?