Have you ever fallen in love with a library book so much you consider not returning it? The feeling that you have to have this copy because you might never find this book again. To be willing to pay a fine for a stained, grubby book with pages falling out and the spine crackling with plastic wrap - just so you never lose sight of the precious story hidden between the yellow pages.
I wonder if it’s the same with people. I wonder if it’s the same feeling when you finally find that person, who has a story you want to be a part of forever. The feeling that if you let go for even a moment they might just disappear back into the swarm of 7 million and you’ll never find anyone quite like them ever again. To be willing to gamble the rest of your life on another equally scarred and faulty being with hair falling out and spine cracking under the repetiveness of the days and the years. To be happy to pay whatever price just so you never have to part with the precious person trapped between the layers and layers of human.