Inspect Drawer

You reach tentative hands into the drawer and gently pull back its false bottom. In the hidden space below is a bundle of cloth that hides your cherished book. Your mother owned this book. It still smells like her, if you imagine hard enough. You hold the mass of leather and paper aloft with infinite care. It is a drab tome, but a wise man once said that an object does not need to glitter to possess immeasurable beauty and power. Who said that again? Some bearded freak, you think. Or was it an angel? 

 

Nostalgia threatens to rend your skull as you look upon the treasure. A tear wells in your eye.

 

What are you going to do with it?