Forget Me Not

by Karissa Kinword

“I’ve met you a thousand times then, Book Girl,” he says. “In a thousand stories.”

If I’m a book, then he is all the lines between every sentence. He’s the curve of each letter reaching out to kiss the next, the swooping song of every italic, the pausing breath of well placed punctuation. I am the words, but he is the way in which you read them.