The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 2

by Beth Brower

“Well, my Shakespeare is my father’s illustrated edition. Scribbling strictly forbidden. I can scribble in this one to my heart’s content. Look at these margins. They’re just the right size for notetaking. I shall be a scholar in no time at all.”

“Mr. Pierce,” I said, “I have found that on occasions of high absurdity, one either discovers a great friend or someone to never speak with again. Having now experienced a disastrous evening in Lapis Lazuli House, I leave it to you to decide which you would prefer.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in a crypt somewhere, for your sins?” Islington asked in a ducal tone. “They evicted me,” I snapped. “Who?” “The dead.”

Our conversation was very June and very Afternoon, meaning it meandered like a honey bee.