Mine to Keep
Which makes it mine.
I moved through the rooms like I always do, fingers trailing over the spines of her books, the chipped mugs in her cabinet, the notebooks stacked messily on her desk. I read the half-finished sentences scrawled across her pages, fragments of a story she'll never finish now that her agent's gone. She doesn't know it yet, but I'll be her agent, her editor, her savior. I'll give her the freedom to write, without worry or distraction.