Chlorine-soaked book pages

It was always one of my favorite things in the world. A book covering my face while lounging under the hot, hot sun. My nose buried in pages that smell like chlorine and salt water, dog eared, wrinkled like wavy sand dunes. The sound of crashing waves mixed with a plot line. Pinning the wet book for a week under a mound of hardcovers to try to salvage it back into straightness.

I am not one to romanticize books over e-readers. I love my e-reader more than I love a lot of (arguably) very important things.

The only instance when I miss physical books is when my Kindle is safely tucked away at home, protected from the elements and splashing kids of the beach or the pool. That’s the only time I miss a book.

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