Black & White

 

It was in an old book I was leafing through, and I'm not even sure what language it was in but there it was, a black and white photograph of this person.  I had no idea who it was or why they were in this book, but the moment I saw it, there was a connection.  I felt it.  It was strong.  It was like I either needed to know who this was, or I had somehow known them in a previous life.  I couldn't stop looking at it.

 

This was not my book, but I desperately wanted to tear this picture out and keep it forever.   Maybe I could buy this book but just who owned it, I didn't know.  I couldn't tell from looking through the rest of the pages what it was about.  It didn't seem like a travel book, or a textbook of any kind.

 

I looked around the room.  I didn't see any cameras, and just looking around for cameras told me I was about to tear this page from the book and slip it into my pocket, even though I couldn't bring myself to do it.  I'm not like that.  I would just have to find someone and offer to buy it.  I kept it in my hand as I left the room.  My footsteps echoed in the hallway.  I could see the sunlight hitting the window in the door just at the far end.  Was I really going to just walk outside with this book?  Maybe alarms will go off when I step through the door. They didn't.

 

Why had no one stopped me?  I am walking along the street with this stolen book, waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder, but no one has.  Suddenly I didn’t want anything to do with this anymore.  I didn’t want to see that photograph again; it would only remind me that I had taken something that wasn’t mine.  Maybe I’m not the person I thought I was.  Maybe I’m just a crook.  Now I just wanted to get rid of the thing.  I turned and went into a local restaurant and looked around for a table.  I would grab something to eat and when I left, I’d leave the book behind.  Someone else can find it.

Colorful lamps hung over my table.  They gave me a feeling that a magical genie was close by.  I know that sounds odd, but that's what I felt.

    As I sat eating my lunch, I thought about the black and white photograph.  Was it possible the person in the picture was the genie?  Had they worked their magic, forcing me to bring them to this place?  That's what it felt like.  To me, it was black and white.  I had been manipulated.  For whatever reason, they needed to be here and I was the chump to do it.  I didn't care anymore.  I paid for my lunch and when I left the restaurant the book remained on the table.  I have no idea what happened after that.

Z. Corwin