I leaned back against the tree bark, my finger resting between the open pages of a novel. The pages were bent at the edges. Some crudely torn then glued back inside to the spine where some words may overlap making mush of the meaning. They were usually quite well kept. It does no good to treat a book poorly. However... I left them out. An unfortunate victim to my brother's tendencies.

I looked up above. Passing clouds in shapes shadowed my face. I would have finished my book by now if not for having to stop every few passages to make sense of the frankenstein pages. I did my best lining them up... I suppose I didn't hold it in place well enough when it dried.

I sigh to myself, my eyes dropping to a near pout.