What a Wonderful Word Wednesday: Reticent

Whew! Fortunately for all you word lovers out there, although today’s word is reticent, I’ve convinced it to let me do the talking! 🙂 Okay, okay, all jokes aside…reticent is an adjective meaning not willing to tell people about things.

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Putting that Wonderful Word to Work!

It couldn’t just be a cheap novel. No. Clearly not. It meant something to it’s owner. Miles examined the hand-bound hardcover again. It was threadbare with smooth indents where sweaty fingers had clutched it for countless hours. He set his fingers in the marks. The pages, smudged, worn, dogeared and torn were someone’s mental gold mine, almost moaning under the weight of an overabundance of underlines. Scattered along the tired margins were tidy little notes etched in the same foreign letters which lined the pages and filled the small manuscript.

It was valuable. Of that Miles was certain. At least to the owner. But what did it say? Even the lingual experts were openly exasperated by the arcane article. The reticent read refused to offer up a single clue. Miles made up his mind right then and there. Whatever it took, he vowed to free the message locked silently in its pages.  If nothing else, he would find the owner and return it.

That was ten years ago. The trail, never warm, not even in the earliest moments, had grown colder with each passing day; currently it was frozen solid. The book still sat on his shelf, but hope was gone. Yet on that fateful morning in June, Miles inexplicably  opened his eyes, sat up in bed and reached blindly for the book. Maybe he had been dreaming about it. Maybe he was still dreaming and randomly picked it up in a drowsy stupor. Whatever the case, the book was in his right hand when he lifted it to to his mouth to cover a head-splitting yawn. Eyes half closed, he flipped the cover open. In the past he’d always been painstakingly careful as he handled it, but this morning his sleepy finger caught on the endsheet, pasted over the inside cover. He gasped. How could he be so clumsy!?! Could the rip be repaired? As he leaned in for a closer look he gasped again, but this time in astonishment. Under the old endsheets there seemed to be a code. Could the book could be translated? What would they find?

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