Hidden Hope Revealed

It was like finding something, a postcard, a clipping, placed in the pages of a book that you have been reading for days on end and holding so close in your hands and eyes peering across and into it.
He held the slip in his gaze by turning it on its corner and leaning it against his upturned thumb where it twisted back and forth on axis by the force of his light breath.
It sat there revealing not its origins or whereabouts and activities for the past several days, only now it was part of the place and part of all the conscious decisions to be made surrounding the book.
To stop here, to dogear that, to prefer one side as marker over the other… What will the slip do when I have left, and when I have finished the book?

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