Two years into college, I made a horrifying realization: I could not remember the last time I had stayed up past my bedtime to read a good book. Gone were the days of “just one more chapter!” and little eyes drinking in a delicious concoction of characters, while a careening pile of stories threatened to spill over next to my bed. Now, there was just one measly book, neglected to the corner of my desk, rendered almost obsolete under a pile of homework and hair ties.