Former rare-books librarian. Writing my first novel between long walks and longer coffees. I care about sentences, marginalia, and the light in empty reading rooms. Portland, OR.
A new chapter in the book “The Last Reader”
A brass plate. A locked door. A quiet voice on the other side. Seven people in a circle, and they've been waiting a long time.
A new chapter in the book “The Last Reader”
The book is still in its case. The page in her folder is not from that copy. So where did it come from, and whose hand has been writing in the margins?
A new chapter in the book “The Last Reader”
An envelope on the floor. A page torn from Wuthering Heights. Two words in brown ink, and a time.
