The Velocity of Shallow Angles

I found an old book on the floor of a used bookstore. (The store sold used books, but the bookstore appeared to have been used as well.) The title of the book was The Velocity of Shallow Angles. I thumbed through its pages, scanning for something interesting, remarkable, inspiring.

I found a passage that struck me and read on a while. I went back to that first passage again, but it was different somehow. It didn’t carry the weight it had just a few moments ago. I went further back, thinking I had somehow confused it with another. Flipping forward again, it was different again, but differently this time.

Thinking again that there must be some confusion on my part, I looked at the table of contents; searching for a boundary and title to tether it, but the passage moved. The index was no help and the passage moved again, despite my thumb’s effort to mark its place. (The table and the index did not agree, anyway…)

I struggled to find the passage one last time, and when I finally recognized it, it bore little resemblance to the one I read only minutes (or was it hours?) ago. I read it carefully, again and again, trying to reconcile it with my memory (feelings?) about my first reading of it. It seemed to gradually give under the weight of my scrutiny, becoming flat and lifeless and written for someone else.

I couldn’t bear to read it any more and placed the book back on the floor.