Our library seems to be neutral ground. It's the place where Talks happen, where things get worked out. It's a calming, restful room with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the woods and a fluffy white rug on the floor. The standing shelves on the two walls that aren't all windows are white, the chairs are white, the couch is white, the walls themselves are white and the floor under the carpet is bleached hardwood, unfinished except for a regular coat of wax.
I love this room. It holds the books of our entire Collective, save for personal favorites that are kept in our respective rooms. So everything else, in other words. It's large but the conversational seating arrangement in the centre makes for a cozy vibe. It's hard to describe but so simple. It has been in a magazine online, just for kicks but I'm not going to tell you which. I don't sell things on my blog. Except maybe desperation but that's not really for you to buy, is it? If I like a product (like my shorts from the other day) I'll point that out but I'm not going to become an affiliate for everything. It was never my intention to write my words and then sell them out from under myself for the sake of a few dollars. I don't need the money, you don't need yet another sponsored post in your life, nor another ad.
Maybe that's why I'm still going, when I've seen some of my own favorite blogs write an entire post on a new toothpaste only to have a link with a discount code at the end. That's not content, that's shilling for a toothpaste company. Is it not? Within a year or two said blogger moves on. They weren't in it for the words, they were in it for the money.
I'm still here. Never in it for the money or I would have married Caleb.
And it's in this room that I meet August.
Not Jake's surrogate brother August. Not August of the past. Not August of the sometimes-difficult present. Not August the struggle.
This man is new. He's wearing a button-down and a nice jacket. He's carrying flowers. When I open the library door after he knocks and refuses to just walk in, he thrusts the flowers at me and sticks his hand out. He says his name is August, and that I must be Bridget, and he's happy to meet me.
These are beautiful! I stick my face in them. Lilies. What are you doing?
Starting over. He takes a deep breath. Something we should have done a long time ago but we can do it right now.
What does this mean?
We go forward as friends with no baggage. And no pain between us.
Is that even possible?
Let's find out. Are you going to invite me in?
Depends. Are you a vampire?
Last time I checked, no, but you're going to have to trust me.
I love this room. It holds the books of our entire Collective, save for personal favorites that are kept in our respective rooms. So everything else, in other words. It's large but the conversational seating arrangement in the centre makes for a cozy vibe. It's hard to describe but so simple. It has been in a magazine online, just for kicks but I'm not going to tell you which. I don't sell things on my blog. Except maybe desperation but that's not really for you to buy, is it? If I like a product (like my shorts from the other day) I'll point that out but I'm not going to become an affiliate for everything. It was never my intention to write my words and then sell them out from under myself for the sake of a few dollars. I don't need the money, you don't need yet another sponsored post in your life, nor another ad.
Maybe that's why I'm still going, when I've seen some of my own favorite blogs write an entire post on a new toothpaste only to have a link with a discount code at the end. That's not content, that's shilling for a toothpaste company. Is it not? Within a year or two said blogger moves on. They weren't in it for the words, they were in it for the money.
I'm still here. Never in it for the money or I would have married Caleb.
And it's in this room that I meet August.
Not Jake's surrogate brother August. Not August of the past. Not August of the sometimes-difficult present. Not August the struggle.
This man is new. He's wearing a button-down and a nice jacket. He's carrying flowers. When I open the library door after he knocks and refuses to just walk in, he thrusts the flowers at me and sticks his hand out. He says his name is August, and that I must be Bridget, and he's happy to meet me.
These are beautiful! I stick my face in them. Lilies. What are you doing?
Starting over. He takes a deep breath. Something we should have done a long time ago but we can do it right now.
What does this mean?
We go forward as friends with no baggage. And no pain between us.
Is that even possible?
Let's find out. Are you going to invite me in?
Depends. Are you a vampire?
Last time I checked, no, but you're going to have to trust me.