Rm 332, Friday evening

[bad_nose_job]

Sitting on the far corner of her bed, Penelope had an open box of Ho Ho's resting on her lap, George Rockham's The Dreamer, at her side, face down. She'd been reading for a little while even though she knew the book from beginning to end, each and every word. But her mind wouldn't keep to the images and passages easily. Her ring, the shiny

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[swipedthatfoot]

Claire was sprawled on her own bed, paging through the book of photography from Cal. She raised her head and looked at Penelope. "Wanna trade books?"

[bad_nose_job]

Penelope looked over. "If you'd like. Not many like this book, Claire," she warned gently. "But you're more than welcome to read it."

[swipedthatfoot]

Way to intrigue Claire, Penelope. She sat up and turned her fuller attention on her roommate. "Maybe. Why don't people like it?"

[bad_nose_job]

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "There was only ever a single copy printed. And I have it. A book from a nobody that never amounted to anything." Yet it was her favorite.