Promising student and avid reader, Zahra Calimeris, attends a book club where she meets Romero Vitale; A judicious professor and bibliophilic aesthete.
book 1 | ongoing
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I SETTLED INTO the warmth of my bubble bath, the steam enveloping me as I sank into the sudsy water. The soulful melody of the song playing from my speaker echoed off the bathroom walls, stirring something peaceful inside me.
As I reclined in the steaming tub, I kept one hand outside the water and reached for the book that was resting on the low shelf beside the tub. I hummed along to the tune of the song, feeling the weight of the years slip away as I flipped through the last pages of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.
After scouring my apartment for what felt like hours, I finally located the book buried beneath a sea of forgotten belongings, long obscured by the layers of dust that had gathered over the years. It was a stark reminder of just how much time had passed since I last held it in my hands - at least half a decade ago, back when I was still in high school.
As I read the final lines of the book, my mind wandered back to my teenage years when I first discovered the novel. I remembered being fascinated by the dark, brooding story and the complex characters that Shelley had created. Now, years later, as I turned the last page and closed the book, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction and closure.
While I had read it over the past week, I had traced the lines of my younger self's annotations, feeling a sense of nostalgia wash over me. It was a special experience to revisit my young thoughts and feelings and see how they have changed over time.
I carefully placed the book on the low shelf beside the tub and reached for the plug, watching as the water drained away. The cool air coming from the open window brushed against my skin, causing the droplets to glide down the smooth surface of my body, creating a shimmering trail in their wake.
Stepping out of the tub, I reached for my plush white towel hanging from the open door and dried myself off, relishing in the velvety softness of the fabric against my damp skin.
Whenever I was alone in the bathroom, I made a point to keep the door open. It was a habit I developed to minimize the risk of any accidents or emergencies that might arise.
I emerged from the bathroom, my towel secured tightly around my chest. The scent of fresh-baked cookies wafted through the air, guiding me towards the kitchen like a siren's call.
Just as I arrived, the timer beeped its completion and I quickly threw on my oven mitts, eager to unleash the heavenly treats from their metal confines.
My phone rang at the counter and I grabbed it with the hand that wasn't on the over door.
"Hello?" I answered absentmindedly, my attention solely focused on the delectable delights before me.
"Hey Zahra, it's Miss Peterson." An apologetic voice emanated from the other end. "I'm so sorry for the late notice, but one of the boys has caught the flu, so we're going to have to reschedule tomorrow's session. Is that okay with you?"
