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| Whispering Wind |
The hotel lounge was covered in bookshelves. At first,
he thought they were just shelves.
“Oh, no. Bookshelves,” corrected the receptionist.
“But… where are the books?”
“Oh, no idea….”
The blatant disinterest of the young lady bothered
him.
“How do you know these are bookshelves?”
“Oh, I know,” she muttered.
“Did someone tell you?”
“Oh, no...”
He always expected her to say more, how frustrating.
“Right, I’ll buy a book tomorrow and place it on that
shelf.”
“Oh, we don’t need books gathering dust here…”
“Bookshelves gather dust too!”
“Oh, not as much…”
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