An unsuccessful attempt to buy tickets to the Borat movie ten minutes before it began left fiancé and I eager to enter any close building to escape the cold winds that found their way through the seams of our coats and onto our goosebumped bodies. That meant Chapters bookstore.

I lost fiancé right away as he darted for the fantasy novel section. He never liked books, or at least the classic lit stuff they offer in high school, until he found out about fantasy books, god bless him. I, on the other hand, walked slowly, deliberately shuffling my feet along the back wall where the new releases were. I picked up a few, opened to the front flap and was taken away. The Starbucks brew from the storefront shop no longer permeated my nose; instead, it was the smell of new book. I smiled, and my pointy cheekbones made my eyes squint and I was so glad to be with books. I felt nostalgic for the books I read growing up, the coming-of-age tales that inspired me to carpe diem my own growing-up. I reminisced about the works that showed me beauty in everything, descriptive prose that brought new light to bugs, candle flames, stair climbing, everything that is part of an overall day’s picture, but so beautiful when interpreted microscopically with language. I read the flaps of more and more books. Titles from the Oprah list, titles recommended by friends. My “to read” list grew ten-fold as I struggled to decide what to take home to my bed covers that night.

I found gorgeous picture books that I long to cover my future coffee table in my future living room with, but of course, more than one would be too much. So, I add that to another mental wish list for another day’s consideration when I escape to the bookstore. I zero in on the bridal magazines, but find I can’t decide on just one, so I relent. I walk to the on-sale paperbacks and choose one that I’m sure will distract me from all the essays and assignments I have thus month. But I gladly accept such distraction. Words that take me away, identify concisely things I’ve felt but could not express myself, and illuminate elements I don’t yet notice. I await the exploration that comes with the thin pages next to a candle, my reading lamp and my fiancé reading his book.