I smiled at the stacks, inhaling again. Hundreds of thousands of pages that had never been turned, waiting for me. The shelves were a warm, blond wood, piled with spines of every color. Staff picks were arranged on tables, glossy covers reflecting the light back at me. Behind the little cubby where the cashier sat, ignoring us, stairs covered with rich burgundy carpet led up to the worlds unknown. 'I could just live here,' I said.
Make sure the seaweed lies flat.''Okay.''Leave an inch below the knee.''Okay.''It's got to be loose enough to put a finger in the top.''Sean Kendrick.' I say it emphatically enough that the stallion's ears prick toward me. (...)Sean doesn't appear to be at all apologetic. 'I think you'd better let me do that after all.''You're the one who had me in here in the first place.' I say. 'Now I think it's you who doesn't trust me.''It's not just you,' He replies.I glower at him. 'Well, I'll tell you what. I'll hold him and you wrap. That way, when it's done wrong, there's only yourself to slap. And take your jacket. I'm tired of holding it.