The Cliffs

by J. Courtney Sullivan

Jane had friends, she socialized, but she was a very independent person, as she always had been. She preferred to live in a tiny studio, rather than have roommates. She went out to eat alone all the time, sitting at the bar, bringing a book, even on a Saturday night. (“I could never,” Allison said when Jane told her this.)

History could only ever be as meaningful as those alive were willing to make it.

It was an utterly modern idea that one’s diary should be a confessional. Jane believed people were now leaving more honest chronicles of their lives behind than ever before. They existed on blogs and social media, in emails. The challenge was how to capture them.