she gave me this book. it's one i'm fairly certain i'll never be able to bring myself to finish. she gave me this book, which she claimed was one of her absolute favorites, and a blank one for me to write in. it was the greatest combination gift anyone had ever given me. it didn't take thought, it came straight from the heart. it exemplified why i think she's the best thing to ever walk the face of this earth.

that book sits next to my bed now, untouched. i can't even open it. my place in it marked by a little note she left me the last time she was here:

hello brian,
i miss you.
[heart],
[her]

i stuck that in the book the day after she left. i used it to mark my place as i crawled methodically through it, trying to savor every word.

like i said…now it sits next to my bed, unread. every night i take my watch off and place it on top of the book. every morning i pick my watch up and leave for work.

her beautiful gift has become a resting place for my mundane life. part of my daily routine.

but it still tugs at my heart every time i catch the cover of that book out of the corner of my eye. every time i see that scrap of paper sticking out the top, knowing exactly what it says.

i can't finish that book for a lot of reasons, i'd say. but the main reason i can think of…

i don't want to know how it ends.