ER'S

's when

disjointed fragments of past mistakes and regrets. Could I have changed something? Was it best to let Sarah go? Was

people by the books they buy, a silent game I play with myself. There's something ironic about it. I sell the very stories I silen

al loops. But Tim's gone, off to college, leaving me here to wonder how I ever ended u

in my mind, calculating the countless ways I might have been different, better

when I

p. There's no rational reason for it. She's just standing there, looking at the spines of books, her e

light, and her lips... something about them-so full, so soft. But it's her eyes that p

er's voice breaks throu

he book hostage in my hands,

alks away. But I'm no longer paying attention to hi

to know her. But my feet are glued to the floor, and my heart po

r steps light and graceful. I follow, an invisible

I offer to help? Ask if she needs a book recommendation? I should do something, anything. But I

last. Her hair bounces with each movement, her delicate hands reaching for a book too

en-she

s over. Before I can think, I'm there, arms out

t. In that second, the world around us fades. If I were to die right here, right now,

ment, everyt