Rows of books stretch endlessly in all directions, including upward where you can neither see sky nor ceiling. One could spend hundreds of years reading these books and never have the chance to open them all.

You pluck one of the volumes from the shelf and begin to read. It recounts someone's life story. Every moment of the individual's life, from their birth until their death is recorded in painstaking detail. Only the person who actually experienced this life could have documented everything so thoroughly. A conflicting thought crosses your mind - if this is an autobiography, how could they have known the details of their own death?

You look again at the countless number of books in this library and a sickening reality dawns on you. As you walk down a particular aisle, you begin to look for a specific book.

Your book.