Anne’s Reviews > A Novel Love Story > Status Update
Anne
is 85% done
And he would never stop missing her, because that was what loss was in the end—breaking of a piece off yourself that you’d never get back. There were people who tried to fill that hole with work, and there were people like me who tried to fill it with stories; people filled it with whatever could fit.
— 8 hours, 52 min ago
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Anne’s Previous Updates
Anne
is 98% done
That’s the magic of stories.
They entertain you. They challenge you. They comfort you. They transport you to somewhere only you can find, and somewhere you can stay for as long as you like.
— 7 hours, 17 min ago
They entertain you. They challenge you. They comfort you. They transport you to somewhere only you can find, and somewhere you can stay for as long as you like.
Anne
is 97% done
There is just something enchanting about meeting your favorite book, like locking eyes with a stranger across the room and knowing—immediately—that they are the other half of your soul. Books are magical that way, how they can hold small bits of you, written by people who never knew you existed.
— 7 hours, 19 min ago
Anne
is 96% done
And everything was good. Not perfect all the time, but real life was never meant to be perfect—where the burgers were always slightly burnt and the taffy was sticky and the weather predictable—but it was close.
Because this story was good, and it was sweet.
And it was home.
— 7 hours, 27 min ago
Because this story was good, and it was sweet.
And it was home.
Anne
is 96% done
Love was patient and meticulous and it never ceased to surprise me. It wasn’t something that I needed, something that I deserved, that I was worthy of—love was what I wanted.
— 7 hours, 28 min ago
Anne
is 90% done
Love was a bunch of small things that added up to bigger things.
Love was feeling valued. And accepted.
Just the way you were.
It was never feeling too much, or not enough, even though often you were both, because Love loved you anyway. Not in spite of it, but because of it.
— 8 hours, 2 min ago
Love was feeling valued. And accepted.
Just the way you were.
It was never feeling too much, or not enough, even though often you were both, because Love loved you anyway. Not in spite of it, but because of it.
Anne
is 90% done
Love was inquisitive, and mindful, and—somewhere beneath the grumpy exterior—sweet. Love was tricking yourself into doing something you didn’t want to do, because you loved the person who did.
— 8 hours, 2 min ago
Anne
is 90% done
Love looked like a man who had coffee ready for me in the mornings even though he preferred tea, and remembered exactly how I took it. Love ate my sugary spaghetti, and held an umbrella over my head when it rained, and apologized when he knew he was wrong.
— 8 hours, 2 min ago
Anne
is 88% done
Art lived and breathed, like love, like friendship.
Life—like works of art—was transformative.
It persisted.
And through them, so did we.
— 8 hours, 25 min ago
Life—like works of art—was transformative.
It persisted.
And through them, so did we.
Anne
is 88% done
Because even after the people were gone, there were still stories. There were always stories.
— 8 hours, 25 min ago
Anne
is 86% done
but that didn’t mean the story stopped. It wouldn’t, because we kept it alive—by reading her novels, by imagining what came next—and so because her work lived on, so did she. In little ways.
In little ways, she stayed.
Even as the story moved on.
— 8 hours, 34 min ago
In little ways, she stayed.
Even as the story moved on.