“You don’t understand,” said Mrs Elm, defeated, as she collapsed back into the office chair.
“But that’s what happens, isn’t it? I pick a regret. Something I wished I had done differently...
And then you find the book, I open the book, and I live the book. That’s how this library works, right?”
“It’s not that simple.” “Why? Is there a transference problem? You know, like what happened before?”
Mrs Elm looked at her, sadly. “It’s more than that. There was always a strong possibility that your old life would end.
I told you that, didn’t I? You wanted to die and maybe you would.”
“Yes, but you said I just needed somewhere to go to. ‘Somewhere to land’, that’s what you said.
‘Another life.’ Those exact words. And all I needed to do was think hard enough and choose the right life and—”
“I know. I know. But it didn’t work out like that.”
The ceiling was falling down now, in pieces, as if the plaster was no more stable than the icing of a wedding cake.
Nora noticed something even more distressing. A spark flew from one of the lights and landed on a book,
which consequently ignited into a glowing burst of fire.
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