Dear Borders,

Looks like our love affair is coming to an end. Clearly you just don’t know me at all.

I mean, really: Dark Day in the Deep Sea? Don’t you know I have a primal, deep-seated fear of the ocean? I don’t even know what this book is about, but already I’m feeling the wave of nausea that comes with thinking too much about the infinite space of the ocean.

And Room? Come on now. I know it’s supposed to be amazing, but you should know by now that the child-in-peril genre gives me such incredible anxiety. My overly-empathetic mind can’t take it anymore.

The only one I can understand is Mark Twain – but I would think you, of all bookstores, would remember how I sweated through that Mark Twain paper in the spring, only to be told by the professor that I needed to rewrite. Do you really want to remind me of that pain?

I don’t know, Borders. I think we just need some time apart.

I’ll call you.

Rachel

p.s. – and stop trying to make it up to me with your 50% off coupons. I told you, I just need a little space.

 

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