The Decision

I turn up the piece of note and enclose it between the pages. My nous wanders. What’s her name? Could she be the one I encountered back at the reunion? I can easily field these questions if I cut to the chase and meet her here tomorrow. But no, I shouldn’t. This is just me being delirious, I could ruin the whole thing. Getting it through my head, I regain myself and tear another page off the daybook. Consequently, I begin writing. A name would suffice for now, I reckon. I want to get it from her herself though, not from Mrs. Regina, as it seems improper. Writing with the pen, I drop a few more lines and settle for a barely two quarter page length. I split the piece in two and slip the lower half into the daybook. The librarian becomes the bridge, yet again.