I stared at the package and shuddered at the horror. In order to know the depths of my grief you must understand that I'm a true bibliophile. I treasure the feel of a cover, the smell of the pages, the pictures.
As I cradled the marred and chewed book in my hands I could barely look at the pages now scarred and torn forever. You see, I could never treat a book so carelessly. I don't throw my books around. I don't bend the covers or put creases in them.
Apparently, the Post Office can!
This is how my book arrived today from a PaperbackSwap sender. Totally the postal service's fault. I think it got shredded in their mail sorting machine. They put the damaged package in a plastic bag. As if that would somehow salvage the package.
Um... what about a note of apology or something? Mr. Postal Worker, you could certainly see that my book was damaged severely, and you just sent it on its merry way, as if nothing occurred?
Now all I'm trying to figure out is how I'm going to endure reading this book. Every time I hold it I will have to look at the wreckage. All I'll be able to think about are the chewed up pages, and I'll read the same paragraph repeatedly because I can't concentrate on anything else.
Excuse me, please. I think I need a tissue.