The book could not be opened. Reality may be corrupt.

I went to the library to look for a book. I wasn’t looking for any book in particular, but one that explained how to do something that I wanted to do.

I entered the library’s main hall, and I headed to the shelf that stored books on the subject relating to my purposes. I found a first book whose title seemed to suit me. I took it, leafed through it and put it back; it wasn’t the book I was looking for.

I took a second one but put that back too, as it didn’t contain anything useful.

I took a third, tried to open it and … I couldn’t. I flipped it a few times in my hands to look for a seal or a hook that kept it closed and allowed me to open it; I found none.

I looked at it; in all respects, it looked like an ordinary book with a hardcover and paper pages. The only difference from other regular books was that this one apparently could not be opened.

I tried with two hands, pulling one side on one side and the other on the other to force it open, but it didn’t give in the slightest. I tried to put it on the ground and, while holding it firmly with my feet, I tried to force it from the other side with both hands; nothing, it didn’t open.

I tried it out with the tip of the keys, trying to slip them between the pages; still nothing.

Then, I gathered all my strength and threw it violently into the middle of the lane I was in; a great flight, a great thud, but the book was closed.

I went to retrieve it at the end of the aisle, picked it up, and, just to reassure myself, I looked first at the back and then at the front. Now I was sure; this was the book I was looking for!

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