soapboxdiner

Finality aint no friend of mine

On my desk at work this morning, waiting for my arrival, a book I loned out. On a post-it note attached to the book, this message:

Carla,
Thanks for the book. Sorry it took me so long to get it back to you.
-N

And then it all seemed so... final.

Silly of me to attach that level of sentimentality to a book I've read at least 5 times, no?

It's just, I kind of pictured this scenario, see. Me and her sitting in my living room with freshly mixed and tastily chilled beverages in hand, talking about the book's respective relativity to our own experiences. You know, just a deeply revealing talk about what makes her and I up. Because having a running catalog of knowledge in the back of my head is one of the ways I say, "Love ya there, dude(ette)."

Bah. Running catalogs of insight and mentally pictured scenarios that outlive their portability.

10:19 pm - 11.17.03
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