[Poggio]

“The book is growing impatient? Then the book should tell us what it wants?” Oliver yelled folding his arms in front of his chest. “I have never read a book with that was so ambiguous yet so restricted.” He growled loosing his appetite for the food. He left the table going back to the room he woke up in. He searched around until he found some decent enough clothing. He mused at the idea that the book was in fact the prince or at least his soul. His feet eventually settled into a pacing movement trying to decide what to do. He drew a breath and whispered “I'm sorry Zosa.” Oliver grabbed his instrument and escaped through the window climbing down the fire escape into the snowy streets below. As he walked his mind thought about the previous story. He paused when he got to the main street wondering if there was such thing as a modern fairy tale?