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I’m sorry I stared

I’m sorry I stared.

I can’t help it. It’s a curiosity born of intrigue, a deep abiding need to know.

Is this your first time reading about Rand and the heron marked blade? Or is this your Catcher in the Rye, a book you read until it is rags and then buy a fresh copy to start anew with? ┬áHave you never been to battleschool with Ender? Has Lilith learned about the trade she made to save humanity? I don’t mean to stare, honest. I’m too shy to walk up to you and ask these question. Too afraid of your reaction when I ask, has the Prism revealed his hidden, dark secret yet? Do you dream you can cast in shades of red, or is it all green?

To all of the folks that don’t spend their entire ride staring at a phone or playing their music real loud while pretending to be cool, but instead sit, stand, and lean with a book in their hands – you are my heroes, my inspiration. Occasionally I see a few of you on the same car, and I get excited. Maybe this is a clandestine meeting of the book readers club, those folks that would rather a well worn paperback as they move around the city, meeting in the warrens of the transportation system as they reveal the hidden worlds they have found.

But I’m sorry I stared.

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