There are a million other things I should be doing with my time...cleaning my house, riding my motorcycle, cooking my family dinner, talking to my Mother on the phone. But I can't. I just....can't. There are too many good books to read.
Sooooo, I am not entirely sure what to think of of this very short story. I am not sure of the purpose behind it being written. It's not that it was bad, because it was well written and I did enjoy it. However it seemed more like it should have been a few chapters from the middle of anther book. Almost like it was a set of scenes that got cut from a larger work.