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(Make sure you read Part One of the story. It will make everything a little clearer.)

I decided to sit down and start counting all my books.

When my “friends” decided to attack me and call me an addict, it genuinely hurt. I thought that they loved me for me, the way that I am. Me and all my books. How could they say that the things that made me happy were slowly destroying me? Could books have that kind of power?

So, to prove them wrong, I sat down and began counting books. I began in the bathroom. It seemed like a good place to start since it had a seat for me that wasn’t made out of books.

After I counted the bathroom books, I decided that I needed a better counting system. What if I missed one book? What if I forgot how many there were before I moved to another room? I couldn’t just rely on my own brain.

So, I wrote the number of books on my left hand, and took off to the local bookstore. I was sure they would have something in stock that could help me with my predicament. And if they didn’t, I knew of at least two more store with excellent book selections that could help me solve this issue.

“I have a book addiction” my friends said. I’d show them. I had everything under control.

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