After Iain M Banks died I thought I should read some of his novels. I have a distant memory of finding one of his books in the library when I was a kid. It was a sweet little treasure - one of those books you pick from the shelf, idly read the first page, get intrigued, and look around for a place to squat down and read a bit more.

When my legs got tired and achy I would shift a bit to one side or the other. Maybe I had to pee a little bit, but I just held it until I looked up after finishing the whole book and realized I was in incredible pain. My bladder was bursting, legs were locked and asleep. I limped out of the library and was surprised it was dusk, my parents asked where I'd been.

This wasn't that book, but it could have been.