books.

all the books i read have a last page. sooner or later, it comes up.

you can turn it over. like it doesn't exist. but you'll never know how it finished. you can rip it off and set it on fire, but nobody else will ever finish that book again.

or, you can always read it and the next thing you know, you're running through the shelf again. The good old shelf. The shelf that holds so many other endings.

and regardless of the vocabulary or meaning, there's something in common.

that last empty page.

to make you think you could write a different ending.

do you really think you can?

i walk towards the shelf. with a matchbox in one hand. and a paperless typewriter on the other.