“In my head, owning a bookstore meant I could hide in the back reading all day, while other bookworms came and went without a sound, resembling almost a library or, better yet, a convent. People never talked to me or to each other, we were just a secret society of readers, alone but together in silent unity. In reality though, owning a bookstore meant that I never actually had time to read a book myself. And being a newer bookstore, meant that I was broke and couldn’t actually afford staff so I had to do most things myself. Alone. In front of people. With my face showing. And sometimes having to make eye contact. It was awful.” RomanceFictionChildren Of AlcoholicsOvercoming The Past Book:Bring Me To Life Source: Bring Me To Life
“And that one guy, Martin that everyone liked, well he had a gash above his right eye and bruising near his jawline making him look even more corrupt. It took a moment for me to remember hearing he was a boxer. He caught me staring and stared back. No blinking. No movement. Just staring. Staring. I looked away blushing. From my periphery I could see him raise a hand to the cut above his eye then quickly shove his fists into the front pockets of his jeans. I turned my head to catch his eyes fall to the floor. It looked like he was focused on the leg of a barstool, but I think I saw a smile split his face.” RomanceShort StoriesFiction WritingChildren Of AlcoholicsOvercoming The Past Book:Bring Me To Life Source: Bring Me To Life