And it had never bothered Hazel before. She liked her bookstore. She liked cups of chamomile tea and rainy days and the Sunday morning crossword puzzle. She liked her quiet life. Except now, all of a sudden, with thirty sticking its proverbial tongue out at her, Hazel suddenly wondered if she’d missed out on something. Maybe she’d forgotten to try some things. Maybe, shockingly, there was more life outside of her books that she should have experienced by now.
