When you love a book, the ending of the story doesn’t necessarily finalize your journey with the characters. You create sequels, prequels, and alternate endings in your imagination. You feel justified filling the gaps in their story. After all, you’ve glimpsed their thoughts, shared their hopes and dreams, witnessed their first kiss, and held them in their darkest hours.
I remember pacing the floor of our small kitchen at eighteen, mere weeks before graduating high school. My mother was sitting at a table, listening to my ramblings regarding college. There was no question whether I should attend or not, but I had no idea which degree to pursue.