Meeting Emmet

This is all about Emmet, in case you couldn't tell from the title. Emmet deserves a book, seeing as he practically is one. There's to many similes to explain, just trust me. He was a book. I know it sounds crazy, just keep reading.

I haven't known Emmet for very long. I only moved into the same town as him 3 years ago, and it took half of that time for me to acknowledge his existence. The first time I remember actually knowing who he was, was German class, freshman year. I'd tell you more, but that's for later.

Emmet was always a mystery to me. This was mostly because he had no social media accounts. After intense research, I did find one, but he hadn't used it for over 5 months. In my research I also found a record of his times from a track season he did in middle school and a couple photos from some trip to Italy he went on with a friend. That was all. This only intensified my interest and confusion of who Emmet really was.

As I said before, I knew very little about Emmet. All I knew was that he loved books. Every time I looked over at him in class, he could be seen hiding behind ink plastered pages. Emmet was so engrossed that conversation was improbable. Impossible, even. So, when we did actually converse I could barely speak out of shock and awe. The simplest of exchanged words would leave me in wonder of what he was thinking.

If only Emmet was a book. One of those books where the author knows everything. Where the characters can't hide anything. I wished he was that type of book. The type you smell the pages of before you read. The type you smell the pages of years later, to remember how it felt when you read it the first time.

I wanted it so much, I did it myself. I made Emmet a book.

Now, before we go into this, I need you to remember something. Something, anything, just remember it and don't forget it. Got it? Good