"As I sat on my knees, recollecting all of this, it occurred to me that sharing books is an intimate act in a relationship. If sharing music is considered foreplay — which it is to me anyway — then sharing books is definitely going all the way. With music, you merely glimpse your infatuation’s tastes. Still, it’s easy to tune out a song you don’t particularly care for when you would rather listen to him talk or relish the comfort of his arms. But with books, you pay attention. You’re reading words; you’re consuming ideas and themes that move him; you’re connecting intellectually. Maybe even spiritually.
I could be overthinking this. But I can’t help feel a sense of loss knowing that my book, marked by my handwriting — ideas and phrases that spoke to me, underlined, circled, highlighted — is floating in the world. Just like a man I once loved."