“With fingerprint in hand,” she read, and squinted at the next words on the page.  “With fingerprint in hand…” A frustrated sigh issued from chapped lips, and she nervously licked them.  Why couldn’t she ever read past the first four words?  She was sure there was something in there, something important.

Discouraged by her own incompetence, she rose to place the book back on the high shelf.  It was a pretty book, really.  It was just too bad that every time she came across it, she wanted to burn it.  It was the third time this month that she had come across this book, and she was nearly certain that just last time it hadn’t been on this shelf. A shadow fell over her, and she started, looking up into her brother’s face. 

“Matthew!  I was just, um, dusting!” Frantically, she searched his face for his mood – the only determinate in whether the library doors would be locked against her.  His eyes were focused on a shelf above her, and she followed them to the book. 

“With fingerprint in hand,” he murmured, “press your seal into the door, and reveal the secrets of yourself.”