There it will be. Staring right back at you. Something so minute and frivolous, that no one would ever be aware of its meaning, unless you took the time to explain the previous moment that got you to this place right now.
But you won't. Not that you don't want too, you're just too lazy.
Why here? Why did it have to be fucking here?
You meant to look it up, you really did. You said you would, but then again... You said a lot of things.
You remember that conversation so vividly even if it had happened eight months prior.
Actually reading the book eight months prior to this exact moment would not have changed a thing.
You are where you are, for reasons beyond your control. And there is nothing you can do to change that fact. And at this point, you really don't want to.
The book is your enemy. You want to pick it up so badly, knowing inevitably you will enjoy it, but you're afraid of what other emotions it will stir at a moment when you feel content.
And now that you know it's in your place of business, it will forever stare at the back of your head as you constantly attempt to avoid eye contact with an inanimate object. Which is much harder than it sounds, thank you very much.
You've changed. Not jaded. Just confused, by age and reality and what's to come next.
You're not used to being so moody. Yeah, you can be a bitch, but this is just ridiculous. You can only blame your period for so long. Five to seven days to be exact.
Emotions are such a bitch. Fuck this shit. You pick up the book. And you move the fuck on... While scratching your stomach as you turn to the next page.
And it finally feels right.