AN: Please read and review!

Rose loved new books.

Her mother loved old ones: dusty and musty, crumbling, books that had to be looked after, books that had to be recovered, books holding hundreds of years between their covers.

But Rose loved new books: clean and untouched, completely whole, books that had never been opened, books that were pristine, books that had no ghosts haunting the pages.

She loved how clear the printing was, every page perfect. Black and white. Nothing she had to puzzle over, nothing left to interpretation. She liked being able to tell what every letter was. She liked knowing the meaning of each and every word.

Sometimes, she wished life could be like that. Black and white. She wished that other people made as much sense to her as words and books did. She wished that everything else in life was clear-cut. Black and white.

But life never worked liked that for Rose. Everything else was red and gold and green and silver, muddled and confusing and messy. Parties were a whirlwind of confusion. Friendship was a puzzle she couldn't figure out. Love was a riddle she didn't know the answer to.

So she stuck with her books.

She didn't need anything else.

She stayed home alone.

She didn't need that confusion.

She kept to herself.

Black and white.

A tear dripped onto the page.