You like books anyway, so what's the harm in picking up a unique one to add to your reading list? Your hand skips over the various colorful book spines as you debate which one shows the most promise for being interesting. Although you have not made up your mind yet, somehow you find yourself reaching into the shelf and pulling out a book.
You're a bit shocked, as it felt like your hand had a mind of its own for a moment, but your discomfort fades as your eyes are drawn to the book. There is no indication on the cover as to its contents, simply because the entire cover of the book was pitch black with no variation. In fact, the edges of the pages appeared black as well, as though the paper within was black. Would the writing be in white? Must have been expensive to use that much ink on the pages.
As you gaze in wonder at the book, still closed and in your hand, you fail to notice the expression of the strange shopkeeper.
"How...that is not possible! That tome should not..." the shopkeeper gasped, her tone completely different from the one she had greeted you with. She seemed to come to a realization, then shot you an obviously hostile look. "It must leave now! It is not welcome in this place! Begone!!"
"But how much is --" you start to ask the price, but are cut off.
"Away with it!! Away, NOW!!" she screeches at you.
At first you are befuddled, but the furious glare of the shopkeeper and her plain intent to drive you out causes you to back away towards the door. Irrational fear takes over, and you turn and burst out the door, running madly for home, not realizing the book is still in your hand. It is not until you are halfway to your house that you stop, gasping for breath, and become aware that you took the book with you. It's not stealing if she chased you out, right?
You think about returning the book, but you have no desire to meet with that crazy woman again. Maybe tomorrow you'd go to mall security and explain what happened and ask them to return in for you. That should work, right?
You walk the rest of the way home, the book playing around at the back of your mind. Since you were going to have the book overnight, there would be no harm if you read it, would there? You might have bought it if that nutcase hadn't freaked out, and if it is really good, maybe you would look for another copy elsewhere. By the time you reach your house and flop down tiredly on the couch, you have convinced yourself that it's okay to read the book overnight so long as you are careful not to bend it.
Picking it up, you open the cover to see...