All I Wanted

There's an old book I had two years ago. A few pages were ripped, and it was taped up in a few places. The natural sandy blonde tint of the pages had aged, taking on different coloration.For two months, it was all mine. All mine to get close to, to let it bring a smile to me, for some unknown reason make me all nervous inside, but in a good way... Unfortunately, I never managed to open a single page. Like I said, this was an old book. Not to mention, I knew nothing about the condition of the book. I was scared of tearing it up. Until one day where I finally got the courage to open it up. It wasn't too long that I figured out I was too late. There in between the cover and the title page was the receipt from library. Almost as if it had said, "You're too late.", the book was due. I never actually got to read it. Year after year, I find myself wanting to read this book, but it's always checked out. Me being the passive person I am, I've asked about putting it on hold a few times, but I never seem to get anywhere. So I gave up. Until once again, like today. I find myself wanting to check it out to discover the world beneath the new mahogany hardback covers, with the blemishes and rips repaired. And once again, it is checked out. And once again, I find myself passing up my opportunity to put it on hold, and somehow, I know that I'll never get to read the book with the red covers.