Jim had frowned in thought, and unconciously carressed the cover with his thumbs as he answered.
"I suppose...it's more comforting and...enjoyable...to feel the texture of the paper under my fingers, and turn the pages. Something romantic and mysterious about it, I guess." Then, a little embarrassed by his explanation, he had handed the book to Spock. The Vulcan's turn to read.As he read, Spock had to admit that Jim was right. Just the feel of the different textures of the paper was aesthetically pleasing, moreso than the harsh coldness of the computer screen. It seemed...more intimate, more personal. Comforting. He had decided then that a real book was far more attractive than the alternative. When he'd told Jim of his satisfaction and belief of the paper-and-ink book as superior to the data board, Jim had insisted on giving him the book as a gift, to commemorate the ocassion.
He was startled out of his reverie by Jim, who dripped cold water all over the wooden floor, drenched by the rain. The bucket in his hand was filled to the brim with rain water.
Spock raised an eyebrow at him, then returned his attention to the book and its marked page, already engrossed once again in the story.
The End.
Farfalla's note: To find the Leslie Fish story this is based on, please email me at blueberrysnail @ yahoo to get the URL. This story is PG-13, but it's hosted on a site that has some adult fic on it and I don't want to link to anything adult from this website. Thank you!