I found Sunburn stacked on my bookshelf, right where it has stayed since it was recommended to me. I didn’t buy it, someone offered it with genuine excitement, convinced it was a story I needed to read. I accepted it with the same optimism, imagining myself diving into it within a week or two.

As the weeks blurred into months, I honestly completely forgot about the book, and it quietly transformed into a small source of guilt. I never got around to opening it, and I also never returned it. Still, the book represents good intentions, unfinished commitments, and the gentle pressure of someone else’s confidence in my taste. Maybe one day I’ll read it, or maybe I’ll finally return it, but for now it remains a symbolic reminder of how easily recommendations turn into quiet responsibilities.