Reading
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
As I stacked everything as I found it, a harsh urgent pulse of tears rushed forward with no release, sensation without substance. I remembered the last letter I wrote to Andrew, propped on my vanity, his name written on the sealed envelope. Nearby was the package I meant to send to Twolly. And tucked against the parcel, still in its box, the ring I left behind.

SUCH an interesting book. I recommend it to anyone who enjoys Jodi Picoult, Elizabeth Berg, and/or Alice Sebold.