Books. (non-edit)

You see, he had always been the lonely book on the shelf. His spine was a bit cracked and his pages were somewhat yellowed but he liked that about himself. He liked the fact that other hands had come to open his covers and that certain privileged eyes had read his words. But alas, none had made him feel the way she did. When she entered the book store he knew right away that there was something different about her. That maybe she would have yellowed pages and a frayed cover. Only time would tell, but he flapped his pages with excitement, watching her being rolled away to her shelf in her corner of the store.