Inside: a leather journal. Not hers. Mine.
Let me explain.
When I was seven, my grandmother pressed a small, rusted key into my palm. “For when you’re old enough to understand,” she whispered. Her eyes had that look—not sad, exactly. More like she was holding back a flood. emily's diary - chapter 1
Today, I finally found the lock.
Here’s a short piece for Emily’s Diary – Chapter 1 , written in an intriguing, first-person style. Inside: a leather journal
June 3rd
Tomorrow, I’ll read the next page.