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All my study materials, school books, and test prep aids have been placed neatly in piles on a large wooden table near the unlit marble fireplace at one end of the room. My laptop is there, too. There’s no television in here, but there are rows upon rows of books in bookcases, lined up all the way to the ceiling. A rolling ladder rests against one of the cases, waiting for someone to climb. I walk in slowly, trailing my fingers over the back of a big leather sofa the color of coal, marveling at the atmosphere of understated luxury and reveling in the smell of old books. The room is a bibliophile’s dream. I spend a while browsing through the bookcases, growing more and more impressed. First editions of Proust seem to be Liam’s weakness, but his philosophy collection impresses me the most
- Writer
