Being a writer means that I’m also a reader, and being a reader means I prefer old fashioned paperbacks to e-books.

This story begins in the dorm room of one of my very few friends on campus. It was a sunny, drafty afternoon and we had just come back from a lecture. Given the fact that most communication students have a lot of free time [two lectures a day at most], we had finished quite early and I decided to accompany this friend instead of hightailing it back to my room as is my usual custom.

By the time we got to her place, my introvert spirit had kicked in and I wished I could teleport to mine, but because that would be considered rude🙄, I ignored my head and stayed.

 We gisted for a while, talking about unimportant, unnecessary things like men and and relationships and once I completely depleted my social battery,  I then leaned back on the bed to sit in silence for the rest of the visit. My eyes roamed around the entire room, taking in everything and committing it to memory - from the dirty pots and plates hastily hidden in a corner to the faded stickers peeling away from one side of the wall. I might not be a great conversationalist, but I do have a curious mind and I like to observe. My eyes finally landed on a small pile of books on the floor and I immediately got up and made my way towards them. It was while I flipped through them, blowing away the dust as I went and careful not to let the mold trigger my allergy, that I saw a particular book that made me drop the others and gasp dramatically.

“Where did you get this?!” I all but screamed at my friend with the book clutched against my chest. She stopped what she was doing to turn around and stare at me like I was crazy.

She looked down at the book and then back up at me with more confusion on her face. The way she scrunched up her brows and twisted her nose told me everything I needed to know.

She had no idea what it was.

“You mean that novel?” She pointed with a lazy finger. I nodded eagerly, but I already knew that she didn’t understand my reaction.

“I don’t know,” She shrugged. “It was in one carton in my house, I just felt like bringing it.”

I turned the book over in my hand and ran my fingers over the gold words on the front page. Sure enough, there was mold on the back cover and on a couple pages inside. There were also brown stains on the spine and edges, all proof that this book had not been cherished but instead discarded and forgotten.

Meanwhile, I had looked everywhere for a physical copy, refusing to download it from the internet. I inspected the book closer and noticed that the gold letter emboss was chipped in some places, and the “D” on “Dan Brown” was more silver than gold.

If the author saw what had become of his masterpiece, he would have wept. Yes, Dan Brown is a genius and his book “Inferno’ is one of his greatest works with several movie adaptations, critiques, recommendations, reviews.

And yet it lay on the floor of some girl’s dorm room. 

If you think about it, it gives new meaning to the phrase “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure”.

When my friend asked what the big deal was with the treasure in my hand, I calmly explained it to her as best as I could - which wasn't easy at all.

“Have you read ‘Angels and Demons’?”

No.

“Have you watched it at least?”

Also no.

“What do you know about Dan Brown?” 

“I've never heard of him before.”

I then painstakingly explained the significance of what she had to which she replied “Oh wow. Really? And in my house, we used to use that book as a cupholder.”

I reminded myself that she was my friend and I must hold any judgement I might have towards her as well as any anger and irritation. Nevertheless, my mouth opened in shock.

Suffice it to say that I went home quickly after that and immersed myself in Italy, in the world of Dan Brown.