The Mate Games
Or someone else?
I rise slowly, the book still pressed to my chest. My legs feel shaky, like they’ve been asked to hold more weight than they can bear. I place the book back on the table, trying not to let it slip again, and look at the pile she kept beside her bed again. I turn them one by one, checking the covers, flipping the insides. All of them are the same.
Read properly. Marked in the margins. Notes in the corners.
These weren’t trophies or distractions.
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