I’ve read some tear-jerkers. Jodi Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper left me bawling. Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife just killed me. But yesterday, this was the scene in my apartment.
I’m in my kitchen, and in theory I’m supposed to be cooking (a grilled tortilla wrap stuffed with hot sautéed mushrooms, garlic, onion, and provolone). But I just can’t seem to stop READING…
