ACCIDENTALLY YOURS FOREVER
Greta left me a plate of food I barely touched and returned to whatever she'd been doing before, and I stayed on that library floor until the light through the windows turned gold, then gray, then gone entirely.
I found the folder by accident.
Reaching for another box of documents on the lowest shelf, my hand brushed against something that wasn't shipping contracts. A plain manila folder, tucked behind the same row of books where the sketchbook had been.
I pulled it out without thinking much about it.
My name sat typed across the tab.
Rosa Park — Observations.
My stomach tightened immediately. I told myself to put it back, that some things deserved privacy, that I'd already crossed this line