Page Turn

It is that juicy moment between reading one page and moving onto the next.
It is the feeling of your fingers, warm and wet and slick with the anticipation of touching the next sheet of paper;
The expectation of continuing on to the next facet of that adventurous chapter.
Your eyes are riveted on the words engraved on the present page
And your heart beats passionately at the ferocity of the tale,
And although you can faintly hear the voice of someone calling your name in the nearby distance;
Although you’re aware that there are other things in need of your attention,
You just cannot move;
Cannot bear to drag yourself even an inch away from the refined sheet of cellulose pulp that is gripped between your eager digits.
You can barely wait to find out what the protagonist does next.
It is the promise of the next that has your attention focused so religiously on the author’s mythical use of vocabulary,
It is this magical display of the printed word that ignites your obsession.
Your divine reason for living in this very moment is this story
And you are blissfully trapped and wrapped in this orgasmic experience of living inside someone else’s creativity.
You are caught in the next of the story;
The what happens next; the who, the where, the when, the why
That will be revealed on the subsequent page…
And in that tiny break of time you take to watch the page finally turn; this sacred ceremony executed by the priest that is your fingertips,
You wonder: Could there be anything more thrilling than reading a book?

(Submission to dVerse's M:/P MAG competition)