My Fingers Positively Itched To Drift At

I Probably Coughed Self-pityingly In Response, Little Aware That I Was About To Cross A Tremendous Threshold Beyond Which There Would Be No Return, That In My Hands I Held An Object Whose Simple Appearance Belied Its Profound Power. All True Readers Have A Book, A Moment, Like The One I Describe, And When Mum Offered Me That Much-read Library Copy Mine Was Upon Me.

They Say Everyone Needs Something To Love.

There's A Market For Mysteries For Adults. That Feeling Of Opening A Book And Delving Inside And Not Coming Out Until You've Closed The Book.

Lil Had Always Believed That A Person's Duty Was To Make The Best Of The Hand They Were Dealt. No Use Wondering What Might Have Been, She Used To Say, All That Matters Is What Is.

She'd Slept Terribly The Night Before. The Room, The Bed, Were Both Comfortable Enough, But She'd Been Plagued With Strange Dreams, The Sort That Lingered Upon Waking But Slithered Away From Memory As She Tried To Grasp Them. Only The Tendrils Of Discomfort Remained.