I was on another one of my frequent calls with a friend (having escaped a suitemate who unnecessarily wanted to meet) when I started packing my belongings—two books and a laptop. It seemed courteous to not be overly enthusiastic in my room while my roommate was busy. As I pondered how to carry my books without an extra bag or awkwardly tucking them under my arm, I had a stroke of genius: why not snugly fit them into the pocket of my laptop bag? They were novellas, after all, not too long or large.

Genius, I know.

What I didn’t anticipate was the consequence of this seemingly brilliant idea. Heading down the stairs of my dorm, then back up, before finally settling in an unoccupied cubicle-like space at the end of a hall, I quickly realized the sin I had committed in carelessly stuffing a book I had just bought fresh off the shelf that afternoon (which cost a pretty penny) into a laptop bag “like that.” 

I had braved the rainy, wet, and unideal bookstore parking lot terrain just to keep that book dry and pristine.

I was more than willing to let the book wind and meander its way into well-loved territory, but only after I had given it a read.

As I freed T. Kingfisher’s What Moves the Dead (a USA Today bestseller!) from the shackles of my laptop bag, my heart sank. 

The cover, once pristine, now had a gut-wrenching crease (as gut-wrenching as the book itself) running from the “S” in “Kingfisher” to the “O” in “Today.”

I stood there, staring at the damaged, jaw-dropping cover, feeling like I had just committed a literary crime. My book had gone from "mint condition" to "folded disgrace" in mere minutes. 

I guess some genius ideas are better left in the brainstorming phase. As for my book, it now serves as a reminder that not all shortcuts are worth taking, and some days, it's best to just let the book warm under your arm.