A THOUSAND REASONS To LEAVE
That was when I decided I needed to do something with my hands to get the thought out of my mind.
My mum had asked me weeks ago to sort through the books in the guest room she was recognising,as she did every summer , moving things between rooms in a way that never seemed to result in anything being thrown away, to her old things mattered and were important. I pulled the bookshelf toward me and began taking things down in stacks,ordering them, giving my brain the simple task of categorizing so it would stop thinking of what happened at the gala.
A journal was in the third sack.