The Doorbell Rings

Today, I am sitting in front of the window of my room. A very very ancient copy of Lolita in hand.

Humbert Humbert is a weird character.

My Dad taught me never to judge a person. Never ever. So, I don't. At least, I try not to.

That's why I'm calling H. Humbert 'weird'. He is much worse. Who lusts after a twelve year old girl?

But I guess, the situation and surrounding circumstances can perform unbelievable things on human psychology...

Whatever.

Pete is here. In my room. Sitting cross legged on the floor. Reading a junk comic book.

The books which are allowed to be published by the OneGov are called Junks. By me. I am not sorry for branding them with this name.

They are nothing, nothing - compared to the books I've read. I mean the classics... and some other books which were published before the OneGov took over the world.

After they have taken over, the subjects of the books are like... silly romance, silly adventure, silly comics. Silly, silly silly. Every book is silly. I'm sick of this word 'silly'. Probably you are too. Let's not repeat this word again.

Suddenly, Pete starts to laugh. I look over. His eyes are fixed on that junk.

"What?" I say while turning over.

He laughs some more and gestures to me to read the comic, his right hand outstretched towards me, junk in his hand.

"No..." I grunt.

He tries again. Needless to mention, I refuse again.

"Why?" he asks.

"Huh?" I'm confused.

"Why don't you read these books?"

"They are junks."

Pete raises his left eyebrow.

"What?" I inquire.

"They ain't junks," he states, "You don't even read 'em".

"Who said that I don't read 'em?" I try to focus my attention back to the confessions and love (or, should I say lust?) of Humbert for his little nymphet Lolita.

"You never do," Pete says, being persistent as ever, "I never see you doing so."

"Oh, please!" I say, "I don't even need to read these books to know what will happen."

Silence.

I look up from my book. Pete is staring at me. His left eyebrow raised.

I shake my head, laugh silently and start reading my book again. I'm halfway through. Poor Humbert. Clearly, Lolita doesn't like him.

Doorbell rings.

Who will come at this time? Generally, I live in the whole mansion alone. Once in a while, my Mother comes here and stays for a few days and leaves again. I tried several times to start a conversation with her after Dad died.

No luck. She doesn't talk. She says she is busy. Always.

I don't mind.

Doorbell rings again.