...a simple crazy thing singing in the snow...

It came into the store today, and within fifteen minutes of Morgan bringing it to me, I had bought it, opened it, and begun reading it, surreptitiously, hidden in the cubby of the lower kids kiosk.

Girls in Pants. The third book in the Traveling Pants series, which is my addiction, vice, and love.

I ran through it, barely stopping to catch my breath, having to find the barest tenuous balance between taking every enjoyment out of the book and devouring it thoroughly and racing to the end. The end was Perfect - it has to be this capitalized. And Farnam must forgive me for betraying this one element of the book before she has read it, but it must be said: my character has a Happy Ending! Also, fully and truly capitalized.

My character for being the one I most relate to, the one I seem to resemble the most. Who became as a living person in my head, and who I worried over for the months between the publication of books two and three. Her happy ending soared tangibly through me, and I thought maybe it could be mine, too. I can have a Happy Ending through a fictional creation.

In a strange way, it seems to make sense to me, if only because in the real world, any concept of happy ending seems to me just as much of a fictional creation.