The Professor

The professor's library was a shamelessly ostentatious display of books, degrees, and awards. He did not allow himself to value mere appearances, so he did not see a problem with it. The room was orderly; each book neatly situated alphabetically and by subject. He placed his pipe on its stand, arose from his leather chair and walked across the room to enjoy the warmth from his roaring fireplace.

A doctor of physics, he pondered the peculiar way the logs were burning. He crouched and observed the vibrant blue and green flames dancing from the side of the charred wood. "Fascinating" he thought. Glowing magenta smoke escaped into the chimney and the logs crackled sparkling dust against the interior stones. A truly fantastic example of nature, he thought, mesmerized by the display. He pondered the chemicals in the wood that might cause such an effect and worked out some calculus in his head to rationalize his hypothesis. "I'll have to test that in the lab tomorrow."

He ascended and strolled over to the thermodynamics section of his stacks. He held his hand inquisitively in the air, examining the titles. "Ah there it is," he mumbled. Without hesitation, the classic volume naturally floated from its snug position, resting against the palm of his hand. It levitated for a moment before the professor grasped it, nonchalantly, feeling it's weight.

He strolled back to his favorite chair, sat down, and opened the book. He looked up at the storm which raged on the other side of his little window. He did not move for fifteen hours.