My name, in a book

There I am, in a book that I can hold and open and crease and dog-ear and read (or not read) and alphabetize and pick back up and skim (or devour cover to cover) and file and admire in its proper place on my bookshelf, with pages I can turn and a cover whose corners will one day turn white and rounded and frayed. It came in the mail today, in a plain, brown media mail envelope. I keep opening it up to revel in it. It’s like a grown-up college acceptance letter. I’m in!



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