The paper is thin and soft between my fingers from reading the book so many times. Somehow reading it over and over makes me love it more. I finish it, sigh and set it down on the cluttered end table next to me. I’ve been told all too many times that i read too much and perhaps this end table cluttered with three books I’ve read since last week is proof. Ah, who cares? I think to myself. The characters in my book are so much more interesting than anything my real life has to offer. Still, after getting some mango lemonade from the fridge, i open my VAIO laptop and log onto instant messenger. My friend Scott is on and i message him immediately.
“Do i read too much?” i ask him.
“No, you read just enough. That’s not your problem. You’re just weird…but i love you!” Thanks Scott. Then again, perhaps anyone who thinks god is a fat woman who likes to surf is a little weird. I smile at that thought and message Scott back.
“Thanks for the compliment. =]”