"I'm sorry, miss; that book doesn't exist."
I stared at the bookstore employee. "Wha - what do you mean? It has to exist! I read it!"
"Are you sure you got the title right?"
"Yes! I remember the cover, clear as day!" I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. No one was going to want to help me if I became hysterical. Not to mention that getting hysterical over a book was a little odd.
It seemed he was trying very hard to stay absolutely polite. "We don't have any record of it. Are you sure you saw it here?"
"I'm pretty sure..." I was suddenly horrified. It hadn't been a dream, had it? Me seeing the book here?
"I suggest you do a bit of research online. If you find it, come back and we'll be happy to order it for you if we can."
"All right." I walked away feeling very odd - embarrassed by how I had reacted, yes, a good deal embarrassed, but also wondering. How could a book that I was so sure I'd read be non-existent?
Part Two: Frustrated
Part Three: Wondering
Part Four: Writer
Part Five: Names
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4 comments:
What book was it?
This entire bit here could be cut straight out of a story, or be a short story in its own respect. It just comes off as so wonderfully literary.
There's a book I read when I was very little that no one remembers but me. It makes me crazy, so I know how you feel. :) And I know it wasn't a dream, no matter what they say!
It actually is a short story. Based off of something that happened to me, yes, but the rest of it is definitely made up. : D
Ah. That makes more sense. Well I really like it! It's basically amazing.
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