“ It's Blake. ”

——The pages fluttering slightly as

        they’re swiftly shut together, it 

        is her fingers that caress the 

        spine of the novel. 

“ This? Oh, it’s…a fiction. I’ve barely started it, anyways. ”

——Blinking, a rough cover is held

       tightly to her chest as if it’s a 

       keepsake, or a 

                  precious belonging.

“ Why do you ask? ”