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Weekly Contest #338
Simon stood with the book in his hand, as if it could hold him in place. He had borrowed it from Copenhagen’s Main Library that same morning. Now he was standing by the window in the apartment. From the height of the fourth floor, he looked down at the traffic, at mothers pushing prams ahead of them – everyone in coats and scarves. Early spring was cold and wet. The book was a paperback with a broken spine and a stamp on the title page. It smelled of dust, shelving, and photocopier. He had borrowed it without thinking, and he didn’t know whe...
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