My first memory is of pulp. Of heating and drying. Of wooshing. It is a confusing time. I am big then small. I am trimmed and folded. Perforated and bound. I meet signatures and leaf friends. I learn I am page 660. I meet my best friend page 661. 661 is a great guy. He is a smart guy, he has a full page of words. Doesn’t ask too much of you. Is always there, is honest and trustworthy. He treats me right. I rest on him sometimes and other times he rests on me. We are close like only pages can be.

We learn the name of our new home: Gravity’s Rainbow. We make many moves. We travel. We are in a factory and then a box and then a larger box with many books. We meet a lady named Fifty Shades of Grey. She says our future is to be read. What is read? You’ll find out, Fifty Shades of Grey says, when you are touched by thumbs and feel warm breath on your page. She says she has been read dozens of times.

Now we are flying. Now we are in a small box. Now carried. Now taken by hands and placed on Nightstand. We meet a guy named Sam5. He is a nice guy. He teaches us things. He tells us of Nicolas. Sam5 loves Nicolas. But recently Nicolas cracked Sam5 and Sam5 is worried. Suddenly Sam5 is having a seizure. Sam5 is flashing. Sam5 is grabbed by Nicolas. Goodbye Sam5.

We wait patiently on Nightstand. We meet a new guy called Sam7. New Sam same as the old Sam. Except no cracks. One night we are grabbed by Nicolas’ hands. Touched by his thumbs. We appreciate this feeling. We ready ourselves. Is this read? I share my excitement with best friend page 661. We wait. Suddenly we are open and rotated and I can feel pages flipping. I wait a long time but there is no read. Days pass. Weeks. Some days we are opened but never am I read. Never do I feel the thumbs and warm breath on my words. And then one day when book is open I feel thumb touching my edges. I am excited. 661 is excited. Now I feel thumbs. Now I feel warm breath on my words. YES. I am read. I am so happy. I share my happiness across gutter with 661. 661 is happy too.

Now I am pressed firmly against 661. I mix my words with 661. Post-coital joy is interrupted by 659 who has a message from 658. It is a message passed all the way from even before page 1. The future, says the message, is dark and closed and on Bookshelf. Some say this is a sad time. But no. I do not care. I have 661. I am in love. We are on Bookshelf now. We are leaf and leaf, papermates 660 and 661, and we are happy together.