Epiphany: Hidden Chapters #1

An open book about to squander hidden chapters, untold stories that got lost in translation, and wordful blank pages, squeezed within the heavy weight of every leaf, word by word, heaving brevity back to its place casting dissolved consonants to come back with ink and salt, and my hand moved upon the surface of every page, feeling the rough touch of paper, fingertips feeling imprinted invisible letters, dissolved the idea of reading her a book; for the book read itself for her.

My palm felt the warm embrace of words, scooped from the book, that I got a handful. Fishing vowels, mining consonants, letters as commodities to form a word; a barter system of exchanging words: an I love you for an I love you, too, forming phrases.

She may be an open book but there are hidden chapters, unventured, unvisited, isolated. She unspooled some chapters only for these eyes, the eyes about to witness tragic or great epiphanies — the epiphanies that will love the author even more.