She ran her fingers over the spines of the books, hearing the voices of authors whisper to her, just as they had done since she was a young child. As she walked along the shelves stacked high with books, she realized this was the only place she with ever feel content. It was the only place that she would walk slowly, the only place she would smile for no reason, the only place that she would ever let her guard down, because the books were the only thing in this world that would never betray her.
Life had taught her the hard lessons, such as death, treachery, and pain. Through the books, she had learned of friendship, of love, of human compassion. While conflict was present within the books, truth and good-will always seemed to prevail. Perhaps that only happened in books, a figment of the author’s imagination. All she knew was she longed to escape from the world she was living in and disappear into a world where she would be loved.