But your fingers pulled me off the hook, and carried me to the register.
When we got to your house, I was so excited. What book would we read first? A mystery, or perhaps a action filled science fiction novel.
But we did not begin reading that night. You carefully placed me on top of a slender paperback, and wrapped us in paper.
It was dark. The paperback was a simple children's fantasy. It barely had enough pages to need a bookmark like me!
I waited a few days.
Rip!
The light blinded me for a moment as the paper was torn away. A young boy stared down at me, his excited grin slowly fading as he realized what he saw. I fell off the paperback as he reluctantly picked up the book. After turning to offer a half-hearted thanks, the boy finally remembered me. His young fingers were rough as he scooped me up.
I was shoved into the paperback, accidentally bending one of its pages in the process.
After he took us to his room with the other gifts he had received, the book I was in was tossed onto a shelf.
I rested between the pages of that unread paperback, waiting.
Months passed.
Finally, the boy returned to the shelf. He pulled the book out of the pile that had accumulated around it.
It was finally time!
He pulled me out of the book.
But wait?
He tossed me back onto the shelf!
From where I now precariously balanced, I watched as the boy began to read the paperback. After only a couple of pages, I saw him fold the corner of the page down. The boy closed the book and dropped it onto the bed.
I had been tossed aside in favor of dogearing the page!
Sorrowful, I watched as time passed. The boy eventually finished the paperback; after a dozen more dogeared pages. I laid on that shelf for a few more months. Eventually, I got mixed in with some loose papers. The papers I was between got carried out of the boy's room and out to garage. There, I was dropped into a box.
Where I waited.
I lost track of time, waiting in that box. And as I waited, I wondered.
Had I not been interesting enough for the boy? Was I too small?
Would I ever be able to aid someone's reading experience?
Then, I felt someone sorting through the box. The paper above me was lifted. The light was blinding. I was picked up. As I left the box, I realized who it was.
The boy!
He was a few years older now. As he carried me to his room, I wondered what had cause him to remember me. Had he decided to use me as he read?
In the boy's room, I noticed a birthday card on the bed.
No!
But that was my destination.
I was being regifted!
I was inside the card for a couple of hours. Then I met my new owner.
A girl.
Unlike when the boy had received me, the girl did not look disappointed. Her thanks to the boy for me was sincere. There was an eagerness in her grip as the girl carried me and her other presents to her room.
And finally, we read.
That first book was a gushy romance. But other books followed.
I eagerly awaited each one.
As I passed through the pages of one book and into another, I slowly became worn.
Eventually, the girl closed a book we had just finished, and carefully picked me up. The girl was older now, years of stories having been shared by her and I.
She carried me over to a special book. Gently, she slid me into a page protector, next to another bookmark just as worn as I.
As she closed the book, I saw her offer a bittersweet smile.
And I was content.
Content with the time I was able to serve as her bookmark.
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