Choppy, uneven pages that don’t line up. Faded golden letters stamped into the spine. The cover has been bleached by the sun, once a brilliant red, now a soft pink. The text is indented into the paper, making dips and new textures from being pressed against a printing press. The book is old, older than any one still alive today. It’s been read by dozens of people, checked out from the library to be read for pleasure, and later for school reading. Battered and abused until the library didn’t want it anymore and sold it. The new owner kept it for several years until donating selling it to the book store down town, where it sat on the shelf among hundreds of other books, waiting to be picked up again.
That is NICE! Very week 14. Only someone who is never far from one of her books could have written it, but you never actually appear, and in my opinion the writing is stronger for focusing on the book and all that good description and leaving 'I' out altogether.
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