Aurora 2025 with cover

Kaitlyn Carpenter

At first, the words felt like heavy stones, each page a hurdle she couldn’t clear. Her brother said it was “a must-read,” but to her, that felt more like a command than an invitation. She didn’t like being told what to do, and reading had always felt like something meant to be avoided, not enjoyed. The pages dragged on, the letters jumbled, and the ticking clock seemed to mock her every moment. It’s not so different from how you feel, is it? You, sitting there, forced to read for class because a professor demands it. The more it’s forced, the more it begins to feel like a chore, something to resist instead of enjoy. But then, one day, she turned a page. Maybe it was just a momentary slip of focus, or maybe it was the way the story pulled her in, piece by piece. For the first time, she didn’t notice the clock ticking. She didn’t notice the weight of the book in her hands or strain in her eyes. She didn’t care about the words jumbled on the page, because the world inside them began to make sense in a way she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t the book that changed, really. It was the way she chose to look at it.

74