“I’ll use it however I like. I bought the damn thing. It’s mine now.” She reached for the door handle.
The bookseller shrugged and turned back to his work.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Where are the words?”
She had opened the book. Right here in his shop, the stupid woman had opened the book. His stomach filled with cold dread.
“It is the Book of Dreams, madam. There are no words. You must only look at the pages. But please. Not here.”