I say, closing in on the geez. He smiles at me, which makes his old wrinkled face sort of glow, in a weird way. Like he wants an excuse to smile, no matter what happens. That's when I see there are stacks of paper under the crate, and he's been sitting there in front of them, hoping I wouldn't notice. Just a book, if you want to know.
Books are in libraries.
Or they used to be. You're aware that books used to be in libraries. When I was a little kid. About how things used to be before the badtimes. The old geez chuckles.