A Book of My Own

It has arrived.

Yet, prior to the arrival of your completed and finished book there is a lull or a sense that it’s not real, that it won’t happen or that perhaps – like in one of those childhood stories you used to write – that it was all a dream.

And then they arrived. My books arrived on 26th June. Packed neatly, nicely, comfortably. Like little kittens in a box. I stared at them for a few minutes before taking one out, as if it might shatter or the pages flutter away.

 

Me, my book and my cat.

And it still took me two days before I could open one of them. Sure, I looked at the cover, leafed through the pages, smelled the pages, enjoyed the smooth feel of the cover…but I didn’t read a word until today.

And it was then that the thrill was felt. Here it is. A book of my own:Happiness Comes from Nowhere.

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