A book

As I got to the Royal Bank during my lunch hour I found a book that had been forgotten on the counter in front of the ATM machines.

I picked it up, don't know why, maybe because it was a book and I love books, reading. As I left, I felt a bit guilty, like I should have left the book there for it's owner to come back and find it but I kept it, I slipped it in my purse and went back to the office feeling guilty. As I was walking back I took it out and looked at it, it's from "Anne Lamott" and it's called "Some Instructions on Writing and Life" it felt like a sign to me, since I've been thinking for a long time of writing a book and then I saw the bookmark and I felt more guilty a piece of someone was in that book and I also saw passages underlined and comments in the margin. I put it back in my bag and tried to forget about it.

I just took it out thinking someone was using it for school but noticed that the notes are comments the owner wrote lie "so true" and "talk about Serendipity! buddhism" and now I want more than ever to read the book like getting an insight into that stranger's head whoever he or she is.

Maybe it was wrong that I took it or maybe I was meant to find it and read it... Who knows!