It stands there. Just over there. Do you see it? How can you not…
Bookshelf number 2 just stands there, across from me, staring sadly. Or is it a smouldering anger? Whatever the particular emotion, I know that it isn’t a positive one.
“Listen, you are both my bookshelves, please you have to believe me.”
“I was never refuting that for one minute, fucker. All I wanted to know is why you only fill me up with the books you have not read yet, or the ones that you clearly didn’t enjoy reading? You had a frown on your face the whole time you were reading the last book you took off of my supportive shelf. Don’t you think I am good enough to hold the good books like number 1?”
“Now hang on there number 2, he didn’t say that, no need to get jealous. We’ve just known each other for longer. Our connection is a bit deeper than yours… You just gotta accept that.”
“Don’t you fucking start with me, ‘Wonder-shelf’, “Kid-shelf-prodigy’. YOU ARE JUST A FEW PIECES OF WOOD LIKE THE REST OF US, OK? YOU GOT LUCKY!”
“Please don’t shout…”
“…sorry. I didn’t mean to get so uppity, it’s just-it’s hard ye’ know? Listen I get it… That beautiful dark oak, that recessed backing? He probably is the better shelf.”
“No please, number 2, it’s not like that. I just… I guess I get a bit OCD about the order of the books and that’s not good. I guess I could-(*gags*)-swap some of the series around? So that you each get some tomes from the good ones? It’ll be hard but I can manage.”
“Look what you are doing to him number 2! Have a heart man.”
“I’m not doing anything! He offered! And it was a really sweet and touching moment until you interrupted!”
(Here’s the problem, bookshelves can’t interrupt. They just physically can’t. A glaring flaw in the otherwise fully realistic situation that was unfolding in his room. *Sigh*)
He begins swapping tomes.