Ruthless Rival

“The prized Atonement,” he drawled, knowing I was there even though I hadn’t made a sound. “First edition, hardcover.”

“Don’t even think about it.” I pushed off the doorframe, ambling toward him. I pried the book from his hands, caressing it lovingly.

He turned to look at me, a smirk playing on his face. “Think about what?”

Borrowing it.”

“Why not?” he whispered. “It’s just words on paper.”

“What a preposterous thing to say. And death is just a long nap in a drawer.”

rsène’s problem was that he was a genius. And geniuses, as we all know, have an extra hard time dealing with idiots. And idiots, as we also know, make up 99 percent of civilized society.

A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.

—Ian McEwan, Atonement