It will begin as a pull, from the book to your hand. Something about it says 'there's magic here.' It seems to have arrived just on time. You forearm-palm it home and it sits up nights with you. You can't take your mind off of it, you are in love with it. You know it is bound to end. Fighting with it won't make it stop having nothing to say after you turn that last page. You have to turn the page. It will always be there for you, you know with each rereading it will be right again, it will periscope into the moment of your life now, you trust it to remain. The book in your hand, the story in your heart.