Last night I was reading my book on the subway when the train pulled out of 96th Street and headed towards my stop, 103rd.
Just as the train left the station, I turned the page, and saw that I was one-and-a-half pages away from finishing the chapter. A race ensued.
I don’t think I comprehended a single word that my eyes passed, but I was in this furious competition to get to the end of the chapter just in time for the doors to open and I can leave knowing that I got to a point in the book where the author approved for me to stop.
I didn’t make it. I was two paragraphs shy when the doors opened. I didn’t know what I just read. I didn’t know if something had important happened. It’s not even a great book to begin with, it’s just the principle of the competition.
But I let the doors close and I rode to the next stop so I could get to the page break anyway.