Worthwhile Reads Novels & Stories

My first instinct had been to throw the ring onto the table. Andreas held up my ring and finally noticed it looked impossibly pristine. He had never given me any gifts. This was the only one he'd personally given me. I had guarded it with my life, never letting it so much as collect a speck of dust. Meanwhile, the ring on Andreas' hand had been worn so smooth that the engraving was barely visible. Those were my initials—I.W. He carefully traced the cracks on the ring, and for the first time, this man, who had never shown emotion, broke down and wept.

Worth the suffering. Worth it all.

Laurence stared blankly at the illuminated screen in his hand. His mind was telling him to hang up quickly and ignore the call. Yet something in his gut refused to dismiss the thought that it was possible it wasn’t just another telemarketer. His thoughts caused the call to time out and the number went straight to voicemail. He waited another second to see if they would leave a voicemail. When it’s important, people leave voicemails. Not seeing the familiar icon appear on his phone, he turned off the screen and slipped it back into his pocket.

There is so much. This human propensity to want what others have is such a waste of time, unless what you see and “covet” in another is something of deep worth, such as their generosity or kindness. Who do you admire? What kinds of comparisons might actually be healthy for you? For example, there are women I know well who are extraordinarily kind and generous wives, mothers, and friends. They truly make a difference in their worlds, and I want to be more and more like them. Who inspires you to live better, in the way that matters most? Spend your precious time and thoughts on this, instead.

The one thing getting me through my restlessness this week was the thought that I'd be spending time at Henry's, along with Valentina, April and Tom, keeping me saner than I currently felt. I searched through the biology area of the library, scanning my hand over books and searching for the ones that I needed.

“Not here, not through you, not through anyone in this building. I need that to be finished.” “It already is,” Damien said. I picked my coffee back up and looked out the window and Damien looked at me from across the kitchen and then said: “Stop giving him space in your head.” I turned around. “Excuse me.” “You’ve been standing there for the last two minutes thinking about him,” he said. “He doesn’t deserve two minutes of your morning.” “You don’t get to tell me what to do with my own thoughts,” I said. “I’m not telling you what to do with them,” he said. “I’m telling you he isn’t worth them. There’s a difference.”