Chapter Text
The clicking of the typewriter was once his favorite sound in all the world. Perfect in the ear, the inevitable ring as he is finished with a page. Round keys under each fingertip, those faultless letters; faded, as the years pass.
It bothers the neighbors as he goes typing into the night - the window slightly open, no matter the season. He could get lost in it - the way others get lost in a television screen, or a stage - he gets lost in this, his gaze pulled to the forming of flesh and body, because the letters are as real to him as skin and living breath.
Tonight, he pulls the window all the way open for the first time. He sticks his head out, and feels the crisp air on his cheek. He smells the remnants of a barbecue - not that he would know, because even after a decade living in this neighborhood, he has never spoken to the people living on either side of him.
They’re aware he’s a recluse. Tortured artist type. They don’t bother him. And now he’s a washed-up recluse. Because tonight, of all nights, he’s retiring his typewriter for good. It sits on his desk, covered with black cloth, because he can’t bear to look at the keys anymore.
He’s given the world all the pieces of his mind. He thinks that is what happened. To have spent his life piecing together a puzzle and building golden pictures - he wrote his last sentence, and now he has nothing left to say. It was once his greatest fear, to run out of words. Now, strangely, he doesn’t care.
This is probably a long shot, but are you reading this for some sort of project? I couldn’t help noticing that the same person has been checking this out for the past few weeks. If you need it, I can hold off on borrowing.
That’s fine. Please feel free to borrow it. I’m working through a reading list and had to bring this with me off the premises a few times. We can take turns if you wish.
“If you wish”
So formal.
Are you … mocking me?
Heh.
Sorry! Alright, I borrowed it, as you might have guessed. Funny you chose the one book that doesn’t have multiple copies, huh?
This library is obviously underfunded. Couldn’t you tell?
Well alright then, Mr. I Know Everything About Library Funding. You must be close to finishing by now, right?
I’m on chapter 13.
Well??? What did you think about it? I can’t wait for you to get to the end!
You really read it within a week?
Re: what I thought of it - I'm not exactly doing this for leisure. Even if I were an avid reader, this wouldn’t be my first choice.
I read a lot. But I do have a life.
Debatable.
Says the one who takes two months to read 13 chapters! I could totally spoil it for you, by the way. I know the ending.
About you not doing this for leisure: What’s your reading list for, then? I won’t lie, I thought you were one of those nerds who has all his summer reads picked out ahead of time.
How does it feel to have the upper hand?
Actually, I’m on chapter 15 now. Well, halfway through it anyway.
It feels Pretty Damn Good.
ID No. 15693, why do you read so slow? I’ve been dying to discuss the ending with you.
Forcing people to share your joy of literature is no way to make friends.
I've been making poor progress because I don’t have a lot of time.
… You’re still on chapter 15, aren’t you.
There are 45 chapters. 45 fucking chapters! Wake up, ID No. 15693! You’ll never finish your list in time! Why don’t you just borrow the book?
I’d rather leave it on the shelf and come in to read it. It's just easier that way.
Ahh, I see. Getting my note is the highlight of your day, huh?
Don’t flatter yourself.
It's not creepy at all that you memorized my ID number.
I didn't! It's in the log! How do you think I found out it was you?
I'm on Chapter 22 now.
*Applause*
You looked, didn't you?
No.
Ha, now we're even! Well? What's my ID no.?
I am not getting up to check the log just so I can write it in this note.
Killjoy.
Slowpoke.
*plays classical music*
*finishes listening to Marsyas’ entire repertoire by the time you get to chapter 23*
Marsyas? Quite the intellectual, aren't we?
Joke's on you, I'm on chapter 38.
I'm so proud.
I realized I never answered your previous question. I'm trying to finish this book for a report.
Wait, are you going to summer school? Tough. That is tough. I'd like you to know that I'm out here enjoying the sunshine!
Congratulations.
Say, did you see the fireworks last night? Though maybe it'll be several nights ago, by the time you get this.
I did. It kept me up the whole night.
You mean you weren't awed by its beauty?! It's not everyday you get to see fireworks. Sure, the noise is something else. But I don't mind it so much. It's nice to look out your window at night and see the sky exploding with stars. Maybe I'm just sentimental.
Also, you never told me what your report is for.
I don't know why you even bother to check the cover anymore. If someone else were to borrow this book, we'd be dead.
What am I supposed to do, when you keep writing me?
Me? You're the one who keeps writing.
Well, you keep answering!
And you're right, maybe we should have a backup book. I know, just tell me what's next on your list! I'll meet you there.
I'm not answering next time.
Liar! I bet you have no friends! Unless ... you're having an affair with another library patron. Do you check out multiple books and leave your ID number around for people to find? Hmmmmm. I think I'm uncovering your true colors. Serial note answerer!
You're giving me no escape, are you?
Exactly. Now we're doomed to write each other for eternity.