You know you’re reading a good book when each chapter is delicious. Sometimes I just want to hang out in the same chapter for a while. The setting is perfect, the characters are behaving themselves (or not), and the story is perfectly ripe.
Sweet, juicy, delicious.
Then there are those books that are so annoying you rush through the chapters. The setting is stupid, the characters are obnoxious, and the pace of the story just couldn’t be slower or more awkward.
Like a bad casserole. Too much or too little thrown together to satisfy the appetite.
While I’ll shove away from an icky casserole or a lame dinner, I can’t put down a book. It’s my tragic flaw. It’s like I made a commitment when started and I just have too much integrity to leave it.
More like I’m too curious to leave a stone unturned.
Life’s like that—a book. Chapters, characters, settings, plot. Sometimes I want nothing more than to be done with a chapter. Sometimes I just want to hang out.
When people move or pass away there is that sense a chapter is finished. Sometimes.
I’ve been in a cool chapter with my best friend. We went through painful chapters where life events forged a friendship.