As you may know, Jessica works at a small, independent bookshop. And, as you may also know, she’s a book nerd; a book junkie, lover, addict. It’s to this latter point I find the most relevance, the most poignancy.
So it’s no fluke or happenstance that Jessica, over the last few months, had slowly but surely set aside a gargantuan collection of new hardcover and paperback fiction, non-fiction, YA fiction, children’s fiction and other books. All of which were stacked in piles under the counter. I envision she was chomping at the bit, dancing like a giddy kangaroo simply knowing she’d one day take them all home.
She did. She did take them home.
It was Wednesday night. She opened the trunk of her blue roller skate and inside I see that there are three huge boxes filled to the brim. We pull them out and take them into the bedroom.
For the next hour or so, Jessica and I poured through the books, salivating, smiles on our faces. It was wonderful.
But it doesn’t change the fact that Jessica is a crack addict working at a crack manufacturing plant.