“Open, damn it!” I pounded my hand down on the table, making Hilda’s book of prophecies bounce.
“We’ve tried yelling at it. It doesn’t seem to be effective,” Myra said.
Whirling on the old woman, I glared before saying, “It’s been two days since we found this gods-forsaken book! Why won’t it open?” It wasn’t terribly fair of me to yell at Myra. It wasn’t her fault we couldn’t separate the blasted book’s covers. Why on earth would Hilda want me to find the book, but then not give me any way to open it? Because she’s Hilda, that’s why.
“I know you’re frustrated,” Myra said. “But we’ll c***k this tricky nut. We just need to think outside of the box. In life, Hilda tended to be a bit unconventional. It’s no surprise her idiosyncrasies still torment us after she’s gone.”
“You say unconvent
