I've often wondered if it would hurt my heart less to know what the end of my story holds before I get there

If it was as easy as picking up a novel with the prettiest cover and the catchiest title in the darkest corner of my local used bookstore, and flipping its crisp, worn pages to the last one

Reading the last lines
Memorizing the way each letter forms the last words

The smell of old musky wood and coffee ring through me at the thought

Would they be poetic

Would they capture the hearts of...