Folio — Heavyweight Crewneck

'You can write in it.'

Your friend looks up from the book. They had been checking whether the notes in the margin were yours, presumably to establish how carefully they needed to conceal their opinion of them. You tell them to add whatever they like. This is a generous invitation until you remember how strongly you felt about chapter four.

There are several versions of you in this copy. One has underlined something with great conviction. Another has come back later and added a question mark. Near the middle, a third has written a remark whose confidence now seems poorly matched to its usefulness. You consider warning your friend, then decide they already know you reasonably well.

The book goes away for a fortnight. You notice the gap where it usually stands, partly because you like the arrangement and partly because you keep thinking of things you want to ask about. When it returns, a piece of paper marks a page you had not particularly remembered. Your friend has written three words beside one of your notes.

You read the passage again. The three words are annoyingly well chosen. You put on the patterned crewneck, make something to drink, and find the beginning of the chapter. Apparently the conversation is going to take longer than the exchange at the door.

Later you send a message asking whether they meant the person in the book or the person who had written in it. They say yes. You move the bookmark.

Research support only. Purchasing this listing supports our AGI research. No physical item or download is included.