“1997,” I said to myself as I looked at the appropriate page. 1996. Close enough.
“1975,” I thought as I breathed in the odor of the next one.
Copyright, 1892. Eighteenth Printing, 1970.
Still within the range at least.
“Third time’s the charm,” I said in a quiet voice while flipping through the third volunteer.
There was no information page at all, and no sign that there had ever been one. I looked at the cover:
Perceptions of the Green Notebook
By the look of its spine, the book was still in fairly good shape. It didn't look like the kind that was made to last, yet it had stood the test of time, or at least that of torture from careless readers. I glanced at random passages, and read a sentence or two from each. They were simple, yet inspired my curiosity. An untrained mind had written the lines, and it is this that sold me on the work. I approached the dealer to make the purchase.