I stand in a crowded, dimly lit parlor. Ahead of me I can see a boy that I know. I am the girl of this story. He sits behind a desk on which are several piles of small books and journals. I walk up to him, confident, smiling, unafraid. He smiles at my approach, offers me one of the journals and a book, tells me he will sign it for me. This
(
Read more... )