The Obsolete Confession

A loud crisp from the pages where flipped and echoed in the room. Some were slow as bore fingers forced to change chapters and some were hurry as if getting the concepts in race. It was a well lit room filled with books and the scent of old and new meet an agreement. Only bookworms knew. There is only one person knew that deep in the lined shelves and circulation there is a confession that needs to be expressed. The only person knew is me.