The Day in a Life Of a book

At night she picksĀ  me up and opens me to the page she last read.She doesn’t read me out loud and only in her head.

I wake up in the morning to find that she has left, when I hear the door open and feet coming up the stairs she puts me in this dark full bag with hardly room to move. my pages turn and it hearts a lot she takes me out and cries she tells her mum to find another one, and never reads me again. The other book gets read a lot and is taken every were. Now I am a sad, lonely book, and want someone to use me again.