Playing House

Who: Delaney and Rupert
Where: The library, where else?
When: Early evening

There was a book that, surprisingly, Rupert had always wanted to read but had never gotten round to, at least not with the required attention. After spending most of his day in his room - much like all his days before and likely after today - Rupert had ventured into the library, perusing the many shelves. The copy of One Thousand and One Nights jumped at him immediately, and he figured that he might as well get to reading it now. His mood improved by the place he was in, Rupert settled on an armchair with the book in hand, his mind immediately flowing to imagining the most impossibly beautiful princess Scheherazade he could.

All of the reviews he had read of this ages old book were right; somehow, the stories and their descriptions seemed to set his imagination much more alight than any other tale he had read before, and Rupert decided to blame that on the fact that this was as far from English literature as could be. They were Middle Eastern and South Asian stories and folk tales after all, and Rupert would be lying if he said he was familiarized with that particular literature.

He was so immersed into the stories Scheherazade unfolded as he was in awe of what a smart woman she was. And deep inside Rupert felt happy, because he was in his favorite place, accompanied by his favorite thing: A good book.