My parents got me started reading at a very early age and I took to it like a duck does to a cliche. And I got fast.
Over the years it became less like reading and more like absorbing the books. I wasn’t intending to hurry, but I just got so much into the stories that they raced past me.
I roasted smores with vampires and blood mages.
I did sudoku puzzles with Mentats.
I bitched-slapped some elves – they know what they did – and fired laser cannons at AIs. They also know what they did.
And all of this at hundreds and hundreds of words per minute.
So there was no one more surprised than me when I got an email from the library warning me that my books were due soon.
There were only three of them – did it really take me two weeks to read? Really?
Apparently, some things got in the way – namely work, video games, and DVD’s. I had two days left and still had a book to go.
Now, I could have renewed it – obviously – but it seemed like admitting defeat. When I got home from work I tore into the book – and got through half of it.
So now I had one day and half a book to go . I read a little at lunch and when I got home I dove into it again. I ate dinner while I was reading and finished up early evening.
And it was good, though the ending was a little weak. Eh.
The next day I headed to the library to return my books and check out some more.
But only two this time.
Just in case.