I found the book uncharacteristically spread open on the cheap table, its pages fluttering feebly in surrender. The ink was still drying on the page, the words wet on the page. I passed my finger lightly over the letters; they smeared.
As quickly as my bones could muster, I trotted through the stacks, frantically searching. But for what? All I knew of the boy was his first name and his writing style, if that.
Was it only coincidence that he wrote his proposal on the page where the protagonist decided to leave for good?
In a way, his gesture reminded me of the way Jane Eyre left Rochestor, the way she thought no one would find her. Something told me that Drex didn't expect to be meeting with Cassidy on that Wednesday.
I ceased my searching, knowing how hopeless it was.
I so hoped that Cassidy would come. I so hoped for many things, many of them impossible. If this girl was the one I thought she was, she would be there.
It was Monday. Let the games begin.
YOU ARE READING
Meeting in the Margins
Короткий рассказCassidy and Drex are strangers. They've never met, they don't know the other's last names, and they don't know the other's age. But they share one thing in common. They converse through the pages of an English classic at the town library. The pair's...
