“And what is the oldest book in your personal collection?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. He was asking, for real. He was asking because he was interested. He was… Was it getting hot? Why was she flustered? Was he next going to ask how many bookshelves she had and how full they were? This was... Was she turned on by this? Wait, of course, she was. She was a bookworm. A book hoarder. A book dragon. A library troll. She was a bibliophile.
