We’ve just moved to an old town-house, bursting with antique furniture.
I twist a knob on the bureau. There is a click, and a diary falls out. That’s MY handwriting. Weird.
But… I never use blue ink, because it reminds me too much of the school homework I loathed so much.
April 12, 1984: Grandpa drove me home after I twisted my ankle when my sister pushed me. I never had a sister.
June 5. Crashed and totalled the Malibu. But our car was a Toledo.
My husband returns from work. But he is not my husband.
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