Crying over coffee? Not quite.

I finished reading Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince this morning at Metropolis. I was keeping back tears during the last few chapters–I did not want to be the adult crying in public about a children’s book.

But I still, an hour later, feel like a good cry might be in order. What a fun book! The love stories, the mystery, the tragedy. Fun, fun, fun. I went to read at Moody’s Pub last night and the waitress told me that two weeks prior a man has sat where I was sitting, ordered the exact same meal, and read Harry Potter 6. Then she kept insisting on talking to me–come on, I’m trying to read. No, I don’t want the names of other adoloescent fiction authors. With the exception of Harry Potter, I don’t really read adolescent novels.

My favorite paragraph towards the end was this, “I never really gave up on you,” she said. “Not really. I always hoped… Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more–myself.”