Complex book.

The book he was reading was a pretty complex one. It was introspective and philosophical and dug deep into the complexities of the human condition. It was also silly and ironic and perhaps a bit dramatic. The author himself may not have even understood exactly what he had written. The man reading the book on the train loved this. It was know that the book he was reading was complex and eccentric. He made sure the cover was just enough visible to noticed by his fellow passengers. He always got so excited looking at the pages of this book. The man was currently looking at page number 5. In fact, he had been looking at this page for the past half hour. It was indeed a very complex book. After leading his eyes to page number 6, he closed the book and set it down. “What an awesome book to be reading”, he thought to himself. He had thoroughly enjoyed his book experience on the train. He hoped someone had noticed his pleasure with the book. He reached his stop and floated off the train, lost deep in complex thought about how this book could change his life. The book sat silently on the seat where he had left it. It rode the train with a certain mystery to it, waiting patiently for a passerby to notice it and think to themselves how intellectual its reader must have been. The man floated higher.