Her head was buried between the pages;

Skimming the words ever so carefully as she neared the end;

The images in her head were those described on the pages;

The images in her head were those described on the pages;

She was not reading a book;

She was living in it

The world was no longer gray and dark

but vivid and tasteful;

The ocean was as blue as the gas flames on the stove

and the flowers bloomed with every color imaginable

The grass was greener and the sky was more blue;

The sun shined brighter 

and the children seemed happier;

But that's because it was a false reality;

or was it?

She read as she turned the final page