In the Shower, Burning

The telephone rings just as you are turning off the faucets in the shower. You normally grab them simultaneously, twisting them towards each other, but today the HOT sticks, and you scald yourself as the COLD shuts off. Jumping out of the steaming stall, you grab a towel and run for the phone. Beginning the production of a puddle, you lift the receiver. “Hello?” Nothing. As you listen to the silence at the other end of the telephone, you glance down at your Rolodex which is open to a blank card. There seems to be a smudge or something in the upper left-hand corner — but as you watch, amazed, you see words fading in, slowly moving from white to gray to black. It is handwriting, as if invisible ink had been applied and was only now beginning to appear. The message reads: “Help! I am trapped in the third book from the left on the second shelf. ” You glance quickly over at your bookshelf, at the indicated place just in time to see a small volume catch fire. The receiver goes dead. Dropping your towel, you run…