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❝She was fascinated with words. To her, words were a thing of beauty, each like a magical potion that could be combined with other words to create powerful spells.❞ - Dean Koontz

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She read more than she loved. Her favourite songs told me more about her than she ever did. Half the days, she'd ignore me. Then the other half her shy smile that crept across her face when I made a joke made my head spin. I wanted to understand her, I wanted to read every book she'd ever read and understand how in hell her world could be less important than the ones she dived into everyday without fail. I can't begin to fathom how she doesn't see the stars in her eyes or the sun in her smile or the music in her voice but all I can think is that if she were a book I'd never put her down.