The moment he entered the library, the books fluttered with excitement. The novels, which tended to be anxious, shed a few pages—oftentimes prologues, for these were considered largely useless—hoping to gain his notice. Some of his books did not even wish to be read, but longed to be used as tables for mugs of tea that might only be sipped from once or twice before being sacrificed in the pursuit of daydreaming.
— Mar 28, 2026 05:42AM
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