Saturday, April 07, 2012
Images of things that will never be flash through my idle mind as I sit here looking into nothingness, sipping my Chai Tea latte, puffing a pack and a half of cigarettes and holding the third installment of ‘The Hunger Games’. I can’t bring myself to open the book for two good reasons. First, I’ve just finished reading the first two installments in four days, making my temples throb. I’ve never finished one book this quick prior to this. Second, I can’t bear to find out what happens in the end. I have this looming feeling that I’ll end up heartbroken.
It’s nonsensical. I know. To fear that a book will cause pangs in my heart just sounds comical. It has happened before though.
Anyway, I know there’s no sense in prolonging my dread of finding out how the story ends. This is where I’m supposed to base my reply on. Right? I’m guessing this last book will tell me whether I’m to weep or not. I’ll have to get this over with as soon as I can, say what is needed to be said and move on with my life.
But before I do that, I’ll let myself wallow in hoplessly romantic daydreams that, I feel, will have to end as I turn the last page of this book.