The old man put his book down on the mahogany side table, took off his glasses and looked at the huge wall clock in the room. Close to midnight. It was time.

The well-worn velvet leather groaned slightly as the old man pulled himself up and out of the armchair. He dragged his feet across the carpeted floor and turned off the lights before exiting his study.

The study opened up into the giant foyer of the first floor. Right next to the study was the staircase that led to the upper floor. The foyer was lined with a balustrade that had been designed and built by the most efficient architects and workers the old man could find. The balustrade itself looked over the ground floor of the mansion.

The floors had been built in such a way that the living floor below opened up to a high ceiling that was part of the mansion’s roof. Someone standing on the foyer of the first floor or the second floor, would be able to gaze at most of the inside of the mansion.

And what an inside it was. The old man walked over to the balustrade, held his hands on it for support and let his gaze wander.

The ground floor spread out like a vast display of elegance and expensive luxury. He had built this mansion when he had amassed quite a bit of his fortune. He told the architects he needed something that was as beautiful as it would be durable. And they had delivered.

The old man looked around at it all - the stone work mixed with the densest bricks that he had imported. The staunch and steadfast civil work that stood in tandem with the elegant and delicate carvings and engravings that ran all over the place. The furniture imported from all over the world. The perfect marriage of Gothic and Persian architecture.

He stood taking it all in. It was magnificent.

And it was empty.

He turned around and started to walk.

It was nice, sure, but weirdly… not good enough. It didn’t fill him with the pride and sense of accomplishment that he hoped it would, back when he was a younger man building all of this.

No, that feeling came from somewhere else.

It came from somewhere on the second floor.

The old man slowly started to climb the staircase. He held the package tightly in his right hand as his left hand glided over the railing for support.

The staircase spiralled upwards, and the old man felt like closing his eyes by the time he reached the top floor. He made a note to just take the lift next time.

He finally reached the top of the staircase and looked back down. He really had gone a bit too far with the design. Sure he wanted it all Gothic inspired because he loved that architecture but there was a limit to things. Just looking at the staircase started to give him vertigo.

The old man shook his head and turned around. He crossed the foyer. There were three rooms on the floor. One led to a big hall that functioned as a multi-purpose place for parties. The other was a recreational room and was filled with gaming consoles and other similar things that made absolutely no sense to the old man.

The third room was the kid’s room.

There was a soft chiming that echoed throughout the house. It was midnight.

The old man smiled and walked to the door.

He knocked thrice.

‘I’m coming in, you better not be doing anything weird,’ he said.

He opened the door and entered. He immediately spotted the kid in his usual favourite place. He was huddled among blankets in front of the giant window overlooking the grounds of the estate.

‘I read online,’ the kid said as he turned around and looked at the old man, ‘that this is called projection. You’re a weirdo so you think others are weirdo.’

‘Meh don’t believe everything you read online,’ the old man said with a wave of his hand as he walked over to the kid.

‘It sounded right. You’re doing weird stuff in your study all the time so you think others do it too. Like so many times I’ve entered your study and you’ve been scratching your balls. Kind of the same way Ace does when he’s licking his own - ’

‘AH enough you idiot!’ the old man immediately cut him off. ‘I take back what I said. I swear you have as much tact as a pebble.’

But the kid wasn’t listening anymore.

‘Is that for me??’ the kid said, his eyes shining and staring at the package in the old man’s hand.

‘Yep,’ the old man said and threw it to the kid.

Within mere seconds the kid had caught it and shred the wrapping paper apart like a dog demolishing a mutton cutlet.

‘It’s a book,’ he said with the enthusiasm of a teenager looking at a new box of cereal.

But the old man knew better.

He wasn’t good at this. Never had been. But his happiness betrayed his reaction. His small smile told him he liked the gift.

‘Do you like it?’ the old man still asked.

‘Of course,’ the kid responded.

Of course, the old man thought. The idiot liked books the way ducks liked bread. Inherently and unconditionally. It made buying gifts for him unbelievably easy.

‘But…’ the kid said with a small frown spread on his face now.

But? the old man thought with a small crease on his forehead now.

‘I don’t know… it’s not like the books I’ve read,’ the kid said, turning it around in his hands and then looking at the cover again. ‘It’s got one of those weird titles… you know like the ones I see on old books.’

‘Tales of Ease and Unease,’ the old man said proudly, ‘We used to have those kinds of titles all the time back in my day.’

The kid’s face screwed up slightly. ‘Man, you really are a lame oldie.’

‘Oi watch your language!’ the old man snapped back.

‘What! I didn’t say any cuss words or offensive or anything!’ the kid said.

The old man thought about it. The kid was right. But he didn’t want to admit that. So he changed the topic.

‘Well the thing about those books was this,’ the old man said, ‘they used to have a lot of different stories. And while it’s completely fine to read… uh - what have you been reading lately?’

‘Famous Five,’ the kid said.

‘While reading Famous Five is fine, it doesn’t quite - wait you’ve been reading Famous Five??’ the old man said, ‘Damn… you’ve really progressed. I never noticed. Well… I’m going to say what I planned on saying anyway because I really prepared it well. Notes and everything.’

The kid put the book down and stared carefully.

The old man cleared his throat. ‘You see while there’s nothing wrong with the addiction of reading books, there’s a particular category of books that’s definitely kind of problematic. No matter how much a book is aimed at escapist fun, it should always strive to… teach or enlighten the reader about the human condition. And that’s the thing with this book. It’s like those old books we used to have. They were so cheap. They were clearly for fun and timepass. But after reading the stories, you’d feel… weirdly heavy. Like you came away with something extra… that the author tucked in and hid under all the glam and fun. And so, for your thirteenth birthday, I thought this would make a perfect gift.’

‘You mean pulp fiction?’ the kid asked.

‘Exactly,’ the old man said. ‘They were so silly and sincere all at the same time. Only after growing up and looking back on them did I realise how lucky we were that some publishers somewhere had the great idea of printing these things.’

The kid nodded. ‘But… if I want to increase my level, shouldn’t I be reading those… those classics or something?’ he asked.

The old man laughed. ‘No no. No need to go so intense just yet either. They might bore you. Which is the worst thing that could happen. Also, it’s not like you could actually understand the great literary classics just yet,’ the old man chuckled again.

‘Damn old geezer,’ the kid muttered under his breath.

‘What was that?’ the old man asked.

‘Nothing,’ the kid answered dryly.

The old man cleared his throat again.

‘As I was saying, I think this is the best way to go about. You’ve become a nice reading addict. It’s time to increase the gears. And I think this is perfect for now. Of course you don’t have to read them. Give it a try and continue only if you like it.’

The kid looked at the cover. It did seem nice. He opened the book, flipped the pages and smelled them. They had that old paper smell he loved so much.

‘Alright,’ the kid said.

‘That’s the spirit,’ the old man said.

‘Wait,’ the kid said as he thumbed through the book, ‘does this also have romance stories in it?’

‘Yes. You need to understand all emotions to have a complete understanding of what makes a person. You can’t just stick to one thing,’ the old man said.

‘So like, will I get to learn about sex as well?’ the kid asked.

‘You dimwit!’ the old man said, ‘Get your head out of the gutter!’

‘What!’ the kid snapped, ‘What happened to “complete understanding”?!’

‘That - well - ’ the old man stammered, ‘that stuff is kinda… awkward.’

‘Geez can you act like a grown up for once?’

‘Why you little - !’ the old man said, ‘Just read it will you? Well, that was all. It’s getting late now. I know it’s hopeless to say but sleep soon. You’ll ruin your health otherwise.’

But the kid wasn’t listening. The book was open in his lap and he was already halfway through the first page.

The old man sighed. ‘Goodnight little idiot,’ he said.

‘Mhm,’ the kid replied, without looking up.

The old man smiled and left.

***