After our monthly brunch today, April and Tori and I were having obvious separation anxiety. We kept lingering on the sidewalk, ignoring the gentle rain, conversation still going full throttle with no evidence of waning. April has a new boyfriend, and Tori and I were both eagerly injecting our two cents' worth: "Wait to introduce him to your family!" "But don't wait TOO long or it'll become too big!" "Yeah! And if you can, introduce him to your sister first so he knows someone before the parental introduction!"
Deciding to prolong our time together with a rainy day visit to Green Apple, we soon found ourselves perusing shelves, bringing books to each other ("You HAVE to read this! If you do nothing else in this life, READ THIS!") and talking about how there will never be enough time for everything on our literary to-do list ("I just don't read enough!" Tori sighs, three books gripped in hand).
Then there are those moments of quiet, when we are each absorbed, consumed by shelf after shelf of used book glory. I found myself picking up two random books, flipping to passages, and immediately re-shelving them after reading the following:
Book 1: "His religion was the sea."
Book 2: One character is described as hapless seconds before saying, "It's fucking cold out here." I don't think hapless characters should use the f-bomb. I JUST DON'T.
However, I did walk away with a handful of treasures that I cannot WAIT to begin. The excitement reminds me of how I felt as a child coming home from the library with a full bag, not knowing where to start and wanting to read all of them at once RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW.
Now if you'll excuse, it's time to draw a bath and get crackin'. It's a perfect rainy Sunday...
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