Horace felt defeated as he extended his hand above his head to reach the glowing book. It is not as though he could reject taking it, if he stopped himself from doing so.
His hand would go by itself to take the book anyway. Hence he resigned himself to grab the book before his body takes over the control on him.
As soon as his hand touched the book, the blue light that shone through it until now, changed its color immediately.
The bright blue which looked calm until this moment turned into a yellow-orange that was about to blind his eyes with it's brightness.
Horace immediately extended his hands as far as he could so the light could maintain a safe distance from his eyes by keeping the book away from himself.
Once his eyes were used to the brightness, he slowly tried to open the book while still keeping it as far as he could from himself.
The book did not budge even a little when he tried to open it. He slowly increased the pressure and as he kept on adding the force, his gentle posture was long gone as he ruthlessly tried to pry open the book using any body part of his which may seem to be helpful.
No matter how much he tried or how many trials he performed, the result remained the same. The book did not budge.
Horace got so frustrated that he raised his hand which helt the book above so that he could throw the book on the floor in his anger, but once he tried to separate himself from it, the color of the book turned back to blue which calmed him down instantly.
As soon as he calmed down, he looked around to find that luckily no one noticed his strange behaviour in this public place and took his hand back from its raised position.
He then sighed looking at this strange book in his hands.
'Isn't this the normal pattern? Why am I getting angry for it as if this is the first time it happened to me?' Horace asked himself with disappointment.
Yes, it is not as if the book did not allow him to open it for the first time. This happened many times. Or should he say that this happened daily?
His body takes him to this book, yes. But the book never allowed him to open it until this day. 'If it doesn't want to be opened, then why should it drag me until here and then reject me on my face?'
If you propose to a woman and she rejects you, then you would definitely feel sad.
But if you did not propose to a woman but she herself called to her to say that she rejected you, then the feeling would be more tragic than being dejected.
This book is similar to this analogy too. He never wanted to come to this book, let alone wants to open it.
This book itself dragged him to it and then made him grab it but once he tried to open it, it blatantly and mercilessly rejected it.
One may think that this feeling is already awful enough but could anyone think about being rejected by the same woman in the same way every single day for many years?
This book did exactly that to him.
Horace does not know how to describe the feeling that he is experiencing at this moment because of a damn book.
Being rejected by a living human is not as bad as being rejected by an inanimate object like a book. A woman would have her feelings to reject a man. But how could a lifeless object like a book have any feelings to reject it.
In summary, being rejected by a book for every single day from a few years after being summoned by it is not a feeling that could be deciphered easily.
Being used to such a pitiful series of actions is more pathetic than one could imagine. Living such a pathetic life is the man named Horace.
Horace once again sighed thinking about his 'pathetic' life as he used the book in his hands to smack on his forehead.
To add more to his misery, even when he smacked his forehead with the book, it hurt nothing. It felt as if a small bag of feathers lightly grazed over his skin.
Horace glared at the book. This book doesn't even want to hurt him.
'Does this book love me or hate me? Can a book be bipolar too? Why are you showing your love once while rejecting me at other times?'
He then realized that he was talking to a book like a crazy man and shook his head while smacking his head once again but resulting in a soft touch of feathers as the book did not hurt him once again.