A Road Less Travelled

There is a thrill that comes with finding a good book. That’s why I like used books stores. You’re never sure what you might find. It’s like a game, like you’re the predator prowling among bookshelves.

There you are, moving among the shelves like a panther stalking a moose. The lights hum above you, the smell of book is in your nose. Somewhere out there is a book you would enjoy, a book you would love, a book so delightful you probably won’t sleep until you have finished savoring every page.

It’s waiting, hiding, sometimes cleverly sitting in plain sight. You whip around a corner and bounce! Nope, that’s not it. That’s just a Judy Blume. So, you move on. You’re getting close now. The book just ahead is witty, is intense, is a book you would love more than life itself. You can feel it, you can smell it, you can almost taste it.

There! You leap from your place of concealment and pounce on the book. Victory! You hold the book above your head and roar your triumph at fluorescent lights. Take that, you shout at the shelves of romance novels, I found good here, no thanks to you! And then, the magical moment when you lower your hands and take a long, lingering look at your catch, your delight, your bounty. It’s beautiful, it’s spectacular, it’s… Oh wait, never mind. You already have this one.