Bookish and the Beast

I honestly can’t believe it happened myself. It sounds like something out of a rom-com—and I guess it would be,

I love the feel of pages buzzing through my fingers. I love big books and small books. I love words and how they’re strung together, and most of all, I love the stories. I love how books are not really just books at all, but doorways.

And fairy tales are a bunch of bullshit.
If they weren’t, then my Dead Mom plot twist would’ve given me the ability to speak with animals. Or something else suitably Disney-

I can see the headlines now—LIBRARIAN’S DAUGHTER KILLED WHILE TRYING TO RESCUE GHOST DOGGO.

To booksellers, librarians, and anyone who feels bookish in their hearts

step into Homecoming. The three of us, together. Which, come to think of it, is probably how I should’ve gone to Homecoming to begin with. The theme for this year is Garden of Memories, and the best memories I’ve ever had are with my best friends. Like a good bra, they lift me up to stand tall.

step into Homecoming. The three of us, together. Which, come to think of it, is probably how I should’ve gone to Homecoming to begin with. The theme for this year is Garden of Memories, and the best memories I’ve ever had are with my best friends. Like a good bra, they lift me up to stand tall

But things, it seems, can persevere. Small things. Treasured things. A favorite book, an old battered album, a DVD of an old sci-fi TV series passed from father to daughter. They can cast a spell to ensure that people you’ve never met will miss you when you’re gone.

I took his hand, because this moment felt like a dandelion fluff on the wind