I'm depressed.

So I'm home for Labor Day and my mumzy and I were out and about and she asked if I wanted to go to Border's. Of course, I got that warm filling in the pit of my stomach (that most people associate with being in love) that I always get at the prospect of browsing through a bookstore in search of new books to make friends with.

Honestly, I felt like crying from the moment we pulled up in front of the store. They had plastered the front of it with all of these nasty 'Store Closing' signs. I felt like someone had tattooed my (hypothetical) child. There were people carrying out the shelves and the furniture. I just stood in the parking lot staring as they took apart my store, piece by piece.

Then I went in and it got even worse. There were hardly any books to be seen. The remaining shelves had a few books scattered aimlessly across them. There were 70% off signs everywhere. It looked like someone had kidnapped my favorite place in the world and replaced it with a war zone.

I wrote an essay about this store. I blogged about this store. I spent hours in this store. I consumed gallons of coffee in this store. I first met Ayn Rand and Robert Frost and C. S. Lewis and countless others in this store.

I felt like Kathleen Kelly did in You've Got Mail when she had to close The Shop Around the Corner. I know that most of you are probably laughing at my melodrama at this point, but I really am down about this. The only consolation I have is that I managed to find a Beowulf translation, a couple of Dante's minor works and a collection of Emerson's essays. I got one hundred dollars worth of books for thirty eight. And honestly, that's not as much of a consolation right now in light of the circumstances...