The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 4

by Beth Brower

You hide notes in flowers. A virtue.

Is it immoral to marry a man solely to gain a library? And if that man happens to be tremendously good looking, is it more or less of a sin?

All of these dynamics created a sense, of what I cannot say. But there was a prick on the back of my neck, like a whisper of some golden age.

I’ve never fallen from a cliffside, but I imagine there would be a moment when one’s eyes would connect with their companion’s, the haunting knowledge that they understood you were going to fall. Pierce saw this, I think, for he left his seat and came to sit beside me, shoulder against mine, bracing me for whatever the fall would bring.

At some silent point, when unheeded tears still remained, he pulled me against his chest as if he could take the beating from the storm on my behalf.