The Premiere

He sat barefoot. Reading. Soon, he was the book. The room faded, the words danced in the dim light, told him secrets, challenged assumptions, and asked him impatiently: "How can you understand us in the dark? Can't you just turn the light on?"

"I can't. That light bulb is broken, and I can't reach it. Bring me a ladder, please. Can't you just create one on the next page?" he asked.

And so they did. Two pages later, they handed it to him. A simple wood ladder, but a capable one. "Here you are. Now, do you think you can let the light in? How can you see us with your nose burried in the paper, your breath on us like a fog?"

He loosened his pressure on the pages and befriended the dark until his eyes got used to it, and he could search around. "I see it" he said. "Way up there on the corner, do you see it? Behind the curtain?" he asked the letters. "Go on, climb! We'll wait so you can read us again." they said.

He stood up, climbed carefully, pulled the curtain to the side, and a beam of light finally stepped into the room....

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A Room of One's Own

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