Flip through my  pages, Babe. Explore my script. Leave watermarks. Stay up late reading me, your head under the covers balancing me in one hand, your flashlight in the other. Dog ear your favorite pages. Feel my words. Swim in your opinions of the pages. Read past the cover leaflets that summarize the story. This text  doesn’t mean to give you paper cuts or tire your eyes. Not all the characters in this story are good and mine might make you mad, infuriate you, make you throw this book across the room. But please dust it off; pick it up and try to continue. Put me on your shelf with your favorites. Let it be your secret story. Don’t lend me. And above all, if my story makes it this far, read me over and over, like the old friend that curls up to you and warms you from the inside out; because you’ll get to a point in the thousands of words and phrases and plot lines when you realize you’ve been inked into the pages; my pages.

So Blue eyes, check me out of the library, take me home, read me, and feel free to make me overdue.