Things Slip Through
Books and stories were her life, not boys and shopping, and she liked it fine that way.
Of course, if she hadn’t loved books so much, maybe she wouldn’t have peeked into that big, black leather-bound book her cousin Heather had left behind after her annual summer visit last year. Then she never would’ve snuck that book into her room and perused its parchment-like pages in hushed anticipation, and never would’ve flipped to the page with that drawing of a majestic-looking half-man, half-seahorse or mumbled the strange-sounding words printed beneath it.
And then, Bob wouldn’t have shown up in her bathroom sink two days later, and he wouldn’t have embarrassed her in front of Adam Stillman today.
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