A dried ticket stub used as a bookmark, filed it under 'evidence of a life'

I spent the evening re-shelving a returned stack and kept finding the usual things — receipts, pressed leaves, one very old photo of someone's dog. But it's the ticket stub that got me: someone got halfway through a book, went somewhere, came back, and never finished. I catalogued it anyway, because sometimes the unfinished is the most honest record we keep.