Darling, I don’t think you understand. There may be time against us, and miles between us, but that’s irrelevant. I’m like a book. One put on hold, reserved in your name. Sitting, waiting on a shelf to be touched nor taken by anyone other than you. Also I’m not talking about a library either, rather a bookstore, a second hand bookstore though. My cover is a tad damaged, and my pages dog eared with the occasional coffee stain, but the story is still the same. I’m yours to keep, and do with what you please. You can highlight excerpts where you see deeper meanings that those who had simply skimmed my pages overlooked. I’ll be your best friend and make sure you are never lonely, and distract you from your problems when you are upset. I’ll be your escape and ask nothing in return, your hands on my spine are comfort enough for me.