“I truly don’t know what to say. It’s amazing.” Her eyes bounce back and forth, sweeping over every part of the shelves, trying to find where to land first.

“Take a look around. See what you can find. We’ve got some time before we need to be downstairs, and we can always come back up afterward, too.”

“I’m afraid I’ll mess something up! Some of these books have probably been here for a century!”

“You won’t, trust me. My grubby fingers have already touched everything in sight.”

Emma nods, walking over to one of the shelving units, fingers running down the spines, studying the names. Using her distractedness to my advantage, I, in turn, study her.

She’s like a 1,000-piece puzzle: extremely complex to decipher in the beginning. You wonder how in the world you’re going to figure her out. As the pieces start to come together, corner by corner, middle piece by middle piece, she becomes easier to understand. Easier to read, until it’s as if you’ve known her your whole life.

When Emma likes something, she positively lights up. Her eyes widen in awe, the blue sparkling like firecrackers. Her smile stretches wide, covering her full, plump lips and turning up in the corners. Right now is no exception. She appears joyful. Excited. Elated. About to give herself whiplash as her neck turns right then left, scanning as many books as she can find. Her shoulders alternate between hunching then elongating to try and reach a book above her head. When pieces of her braid fall in her face, she tucks them away behind her ear, wanting an unobstructed view of what’s in front of her, and continues her search. Every book she encounters is a rare prize. A jewel. A once-in-a-lifetime find. Despite the thousands of antique pages and historic titles surrounding me, I only see her. Her beauty. Her wonder. Her happiness, the exuberant excitement making me smile.

I know she likes to read. The bookshelf in her office is full of books, and I saw the way her eyes sparkled when she noticed the shelf in my apartment, too. I also noticed the three books tucked in her suitcase when she was unpacking yesterday. I’m curious how she reads, what she likes to read, and if she prefers physical books or an e-reader. Who’s her favorite author? What’s a quote from a book she’s annotated and highlighted, going back to the comfort of familiarity in times of sorrow and despair? What’s her favorite love story?

More questions I’m desperate to know the answer to.

The list is never-ending with her.

“I could spend all day here,” she announces. “Seriously, how did you get anything done growing up? I would’ve flunked out if I had all these books waiting for me.”