I pushed Gone with the Wind back into its slot and knelt down lower, my finger brushing the spines, until it stopped in place. The Master and Margarita. There it was. There was a tingle of a glow as I held that book in my hands. Behemoth and the Devil and Pontius Pilate. Nobody I’d ever met as par for the course in my daily life had ever read it. Nobody ever knew what the hell I was talking about, let alone finished up a quote with me. I wondered what else he might know quotes to.
