Woman Reading A Book Novels & Stories

I looked at it for a long time. Then the library. Bent over an open book, both hands pressing flat on the page, her weight leaning into the text. The focused intensity of someone who cared about the words, not how she looked reading them. Her hair was tied back in this one, a loose knot, two strands falling forward across her cheek. She hadn't pushed them back. I turned to the third photograph.

The atmosphere was so comfortable that it made people sleepy. The young lady was reading a book with great concentration in front of the French window. Wearing a white dress, she looked like a white butterfly that was about to spread its wings and fly away under the setting sun. Her soft, jet black hair was as fluffy as the clouds, and it was so long that it touched the polished floor. After reading the book for a while, she closed it. Staring blankly at her reflection in the French window, she pondered over a question. Who am I?

Dangerous in a way that wasn’t loud but quiet, careful, and packed with hidden truths. She walked slowly past fiction, biographies, self-help. Then stopped. In the poetry section, a woman stood with her back to her. Curly auburn hair, longer than in the photo. A trench coat. Fingers thumbing through a worn copy of Milk and Honey like it wasn’t just a book but a memory. “Elena?” Ava said. The woman turned slowly. Her face was older. Not in years though there were fine lines around her eyes but in the way grief and silence age a person.

I like to be in control, and not knowing what she is up to is driving me crazy. “I’ll have my phone with me at all times,” I tell her, and she nods and smiles without even bothering to look at me. She’s been in that same position for ages today. Isn’t she tired of reading? “What are you reading?” I ask, and she takes a deep breath and closes the book leaving a finger marking the page she was reading. She looks so sexy when she reads. Well, I think she looks sexy all the time, she is the perfect woman in my eyes, she is the sexiest and most unbelievable woman I have ever met.

She always looks so forlorn even when she has a smile on her face and for a beautiful woman like herself - happiness is all she needs to feel. "Aren't you busy or something? I shouldn't bother you." She says. "I called you so you're not bothering me." I lean back in my chair. "What are you doing right now?" "Reading." She replies. "Want me to tell you the title?" "Yes." "Pride and Prejudice." "What's it about?" I ask. "I've watched the movie but somehow, I think they left out a lot of details." I listen to her as she explains what the book is all about and I close my eyes just listening to her voice which calms me. The turmoil roiling inside of me disappears and the headache I was beginning

She stood on tiptoe, took that book off the third shelf, and seriously flipped through it. In the book, there is a photo of a man and a woman, the two of them embracing each other sweetly and closely, the blue eyes filled with the love of an extremely outstanding woman, with an extremely beautiful appearance.

It was around 12'o clock when i was sitting in the living room and reading a book because i was bored. Clara was cooking lunch and she won't let me help. I heard someone ringing the bell and Clara was the one who opened the door. Aakash won't come at such time then who is the person. I heard the sound of heel which was moving towards the living room. The person is a woman. I saw someone came and sat opposite to me. I looked at the person, she is a beautiful woman with blonde hair and emerald eyes. She had a pale skin and has a body of model or maybe she is a model but the questions is 'what is she doing here'.

“I'm sorry, madam, it's only 09.00 at night, isn't bedtime every 10.00 at night? If I still have an hour and I can't sleep well, that's why I come here to just read a book to relieve boredom. Once again I'm sorry, if I have indeed violated a rule, please don't punish me with severe punishment." The feeling didn't answer, then the figure fell silent. Of course, this made my face look up perfectly, I saw the woman walking from several bookshelves, then she took several books and placed them in front of my table. I fell silent again, the woman smiled quite friendly at me. I didn't expect the woman to smile at all, at first I thought the woman would be angry with me.

So I finally look up and see an eight-year-old girl annihilate my front display like she’s reenacting Fast & Furious: Bookstore Drift. Books everywhere. Glorious chaos. Behind her is a woman. A beautiful woman. A diner-uniform, exhausted beyond salvation, mascara-smudged, hair-falling-out-of-the-bun-but-still-somehow-sexy beautiful woman. She stops dead when the books hit the floor. “Oh my God—no, no, no—I’m so sorry—she’s just—today has been—I—please don’t kick us out—” The panic in her voice is pure, distilled chaos.

This was the first time I feel any sort of fire inside me since--, NO. Not even HER gets to ruin this moment. I thought I would never feel another fire after she had gone. And yet this gentleman here makes me feel something inside me. Something I don’t know I could feel for another human being. But of course, something like this didn’t happen out of the blue. Eleven hours earlier. The day starts early here for women. The first light was just slightly above the horizon when I sipped the last drop of my black coffee in The Daily Bread to join a group of young girls in full-length baby blue dresses.