Books, a Love Story
To revisit a bibliophilic romance
I love finding a good book. Not just any old read, but a book that I can spend time with, get to know, take to coffee, snuggle up with on the sofa. A book that captures my mind and leaves me feeling its lack while I’m at work. One that distracts me when I’m hanging out with friends. A book for which I will steal away during a dinner party for a few covert pages.
Sometimes I find myself looking at used books. I might be at a used bookstore, or a thrift store that sells books. I might be glancing at titles in a garage sale or coveting novels on somebody’s bookshelf.
I’m glancing through the shiny dust covers and something catches my eye — something different, something interesting. Something promising. Like the furtive eye contact made from across the room with a stranger. Something in their eyes says that they, too, are searching. Maybe you’re looking for the same thing — be it romance, lust or just to get the hell out of there with somebody and have an intelligent conversation.
Maybe what you’re longing for doesn’t correspond with their needs; maybe you’ll never even know. But the spark happened and it will not be ignored.
This first contact stirs something in the belly, and I felt this the other day as I was looking at the hardcovers on top of a…
