Re Reading Novels & Stories

XARION'S POV The report in front of me has been open for forty-five minutes. I know this because I checked the clock when I opened it, some optimistic part of me believing that if I put a timestamp on the exercise I'd feel more accountable to actually reading it. That part of me was wrong. I've read the same paragraph four times. I know this because the words are numb in the way that things become numb when you keep looking at them without absorbing them, like a word you've stared at so long it stops looking like a real word and becomes a meaningless arrangement of letters.

And also, even if it is already edited, I can't assure you that it won't have mistakes anymore since making mistakes is inevitable. I'll reread and edit it all over again so expect some changes if ever you decide to read the chapter again. Thank you for understanding.

" I continue to sob in the arms I finally realize are Willamina's. "My sweet little angel, what have I done to you." She kept rubbing my back "I should have known I hate myself for not recognizing the signs." I feel her pull me in closer. "You're still trying to heal and here I am being a bitch when I still have nightmares."

Thanks for reading. TBC…

DELILAH I move closer to the intoxicating scent around me. It smells so familiar, but I can't place where I’ve smelled it before. It smells so good that I don't even want to open my eyes to check where it’s coming from. It calms my heart and makes me want to spend the whole day wrapped around it. I let out a sigh and feel my breath bounce back against my face. That's odd; why did that happen? I slowly open my eyes to find out what's wrong. My eyes widen as I come face to face with a rock-hard chest. I quickly check my body to ensure I didn't do what I think I might have done. I know I drank a lot last night, but I am not one to have a drunken one-night stand. A breath of relief escapes me on

Cerise was happy as well but had moved to California for college by that point. POV Scarlett I smiled when I looked at my phone to see that Ruby was calling. I wouldn't have to pretend for at least a few moments. I savored the time with her since it was only then that I could truely be myself Scarlett: Dear cousin, how are you? Ruby: I'm great! I have news. Scarlett: Ohh. Tea! Spill! Ruby: Guess who's moving back to Rose Hills? Scarlett: Really? Please tell me that you aren't playing a cruel joke on me.

You will be kept informed of developments as they occur. I read it at my desk. Then I read it again, not because the first reading had been unclear but because I had learned, after years of receiving difficult information, that a second reading was a useful diagnostic tool. If the second reading felt the same as the first, the information had been processed accurately. If it felt different, something in the first reading had been filtered through the particular lens of whatever I was carrying that day. The second reading felt the same as the first.

Even with earplugs in, I could still hear them. I started studying, too, though I was still figuring out the basics. Evelyn seemed bothered by my sudden seriousness. She walked over with a textbook Matthias had just marked up and waved it in front of me. "Wendy, you're studying now, too? Reading all by yourself? Can you even understand it? "I have notes here that Matthias just highlighted. I can let you take a look." She waved the book back and forth, then covered her mouth and laughed. "Oh, right. I almost forgot. Matthias doesn't want to teach you anymore.

“I’m… working on it.” Ms. Reed scanned the page quickly, then smiled. “You’re closer than you think. Try breaking it down one step at a time. And remember, mistakes mean you’re learning.” She gave the desk a light tap, as if giving Emma permission to breathe again, before moving on. Emma nodded, clutching her pencil tighter, erasing carefully, rewriting the numbers. But even as she tried again, her ears still burned from the whispers.

Lena's POV I sat with the folder until the light changed. The library went from afternoon grey to the particular amber of early evening, the lamps casting long shadows across the shelves, and I sat on the window seat with the folder open in my lap and read every page three times. Not because I didn't understand it the first time. Because I kept hoping the second reading would change what the first one said. It didn't. Neither did the third.