[ WP ] While waiting to be seen for a job interview you nervously pick up a book from the waiting room table . Flipping to a random chapter , you start to read hoping to calm your anxiety . Slowly you become aware that it 's a book about you and the random part you opened to is the current moment .

*Jesus Christ, I need a distraction now, * I thought, my palms sweaty as could be when I brushed them against my suit trousers. I was visibly shaking, having to force myself to refrain from biting my finger nails as I waited for the biggest interview of my life. I tried everything; eyeing the cute receptionist, walking around a bit, humming... Nothing has calmed me. 
 
 Maybe some reading will help. My shaky hands brush through the stack of magazines to my right, finding nothing of particular interest. To the lefy, however, sits an old looking book, plainly bound in black leather. It was titled rather strangely, bold silver letters glinting at me in a striking font to spell out `` Life''. I shrug inwardly and lift the hefty thing, examining it a bit closer before I decided to jump in. The spine was crisp and without wear, in odd contrast to the rest of the book's binding - the covers were scuffed and dusty, the corners bent and worn. The pages were odd as well; from the beginning, they were old and worn, yellowed like any timeless classic. As they progressed, they got lighter and lighter, the end looking almost brand new and quite crisp to boot. I thought no more of it and simply opened it to a random page, my thumb choosing a line somewhere in the middle and beginning from there. I was about a quarter of the way into the book when I opened it, so I figured I could save some of the story elements for later. 
 
 *The young man sat in the waiting area, nerves shot and stomach aflutter. His grey undershirt was beginning to feel the pressure of such a heavy moment, the job interview before him quite the turning point in his life regardless of how it went. * 
 
 Well, that was odd. Grey undershirt with sweat stains, butterflies, and one hell of an interview? Maybe this book was just what I needed. With a roll of my eyes, I continued. 
 
 *Hoping to calm his nerves, the young man searched for a distraction, finding one in a simple black book to his left. * 
 
 Okay... 
 
 *He scanned it's pages, finding each line a little stranger than the last. Within a book's pages, man oft finds mysteries to be solved - this mystery just kept getting a little more strange. He sought comfort, yet this was anything but. `` Mr. LeFaire, the senior partners will see you now,'' called the receptionist. * 
 
 What... what the fuck? `` Mr. LeFaire, the senior partners will see you now.'' These words snapped my head up in their direction. Sure enough, those words had been spoken by the receptionist. My name was in the book. What she said... it was in the book. I skipped a page, absolutely marveling at these events. My heart leapt into my throat at the next sentence, prompting cold fear to seep into my mind. 
 
 *His phone rang. The young man silenced it, not wanting to interrupt an interview as it was going so well. Seconds later, a text alert went off. He scanned the first line and his heart fell, the cool hand of fear tightening to become the icy grip of terror. The message read in short, haughty sentences, typed by someone in crisis.'Steven, your mother is in the hospital. It is n't looking good. You need to come. May not make it through the night.'* 
 
 I threw the book to the side in a manner that did n't seem too strange before jumping up and striding into the interview. If this was a prank, it was n't fucking funny. 
 
 Minutes into my interview, my phone rang. I shrugged an apology to the men and women before me before continuing to describe my personal strengths and weaknesses, only to hear it ring once more to signify a text message. My stomach turned so fast, I nearly through up on the table. I jumped up, wild eyed and panicked, and dug into my pocket. I scanned the screen of my phone, reading the first three words before my knees gave and I had to lean on the table for support.'Steven, your mother...' 
 
 I leapt from my chair and all but screamed at the partners. `` YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY, YOU SICK BASTARDS? I DUNNO HOW YOU ARE DOING THIS, BUT TAKE YOUR JOB AND SHOVE IT.'' And at that, I left, slamming the door behind me. I stopped to take one look at the black book, contemplating slinging it out of a window before I stormed out of the front door. I ran to my car, my anger and panic intermingling to create an awful emotional storm. This was bullshit, I would n't stand for it. I turned my phone off and drove home, diving into bed at only 6 in the evening. 
 
 The next morning, I awoke much the same as any other. I was out of bed by 8, making my way into the kitchen and frying up a quick breakfast. I gulped it down and showered, finally plopping onto the couch and turning on the television. The couch felt rather hard, even more so than usual. Realizing it was n't the couch, but rather something in the couch, I stood and dug beneath the cushions. What I found set my mind into sheer panic. 
 
 A black book, boldly titled in silver as `` Life''. 
 
 This time, it did n't seem so long. That was disconcerting, but my main thought was to burn the awful thing before it threw me deeper into insanity. I grabbed a jug of gas and walked out back, pouring the fuel over the book and dropping a match into the fire pit. It was consumed in seconds by a satisfying **whoosh**... My problems were over with an easy solution. I wandered back inside after listening to the quiet crackling of the fire, sitting down just in time to hear a loud crash and a nearby car alarm. 
 
 Jesus Christ, this day was shaping up to be shit already. I stepped outside, but had little time for comprehension before my mind simply shut down. I remember a single `` What...'' parting my lips before everything grayed put and disappeared. 
 
 When I awoke, I was beside my car in the driveway. The alarm was silenced, but the broken glass was still all around me. There, in the spiderweb of cracks that had become by windshield, was a still smoldering black book. Though slightly charred, it was much more put together than the pile of ash I had just left in my backyard. What was happening to me? I could n't ignore it any longer, I had to read that damned book. I grabbed it and brushed it off quickly, scurrying inside with it tucked against my chest for safe keeping. Once inside, I threw myself to the floor and began reading voraciously. What had once been a huge book was now considerably less, and my starting pointment that had once been a quarter of the way through was now nearly halfway or more. I read and read - it detailed perfectly every moment of my life from birth, not skipping a beat on stories I could n't even remember myself, but rather shared through memories with my parents. My heart felt ready to explode by the time I reached the current moment... I could n't stop reading. All day, every day, I sat and read and read. It chronicled everything I did as I was reading, from eating breakfast to smoking, from walking the dog to even the exact things I did while in the privacy of the restroom. 
 
 I'm insane, right? 
 
 Well, today is my 3rd week reading the book, and I'm nearing the end. I'm scared to see what's going to happen, but the book is nearly an extension of my arm now. I'm on the train, riding to the store, and the book even records the conversation around me. Everything is perfect, I have no explanation other than the supernatural... As I turn the last page, I step off the train and begin my block or so commute to the grocery store. 
 
 *The young man, frazzled in appearance and clearly shaken, takes no care as he weaves through the crowd. He bumps into countless others, pinballing off of people and objects alike. He nearly runs into a street lamp even, narrowly missing a possible broken nose. The gazes of those around him are disgusted by his appearance, his obvious lack of attention. `` Watch it, I'm walking here!'' He hears more than once, causing no change in his behavior. Perhaps, had he been more attentive, he'd have see it coming. Perhaps, had he been more attentive, our story would have a different outcome. Yet, alas, here ends the tale of Steven LeFaire. He stepped off the sidewalk and heard a loud-* 
 
 **SCREEEECH** What the hell? My attention turned to the noise, eyes catching much too late a rapidly approaching bus. I shook my head and cradled the book close, never even feeling the impact. 
 
 *'' Breaking news from New York, a young man killed in traffic today while reading from a strange book, entirely blank. Reports indicate he had been reading nonstop, paying no attention to traffic. More on this story tonight. *
