ed tips。 And there was her wedding band； wide and gold； gleaming
with deceptive brightness； on the third finger of her left hand。
When the fire spoke again； cackling for a feeding； she knelt before the
warm stone。 Taking a piece of dried birch from the large wood basket；
she laid it over the broken embers。 The log heated； then burst into
flame。 It was an omen； she vowed； as she picked up her book from the
floor by her chair。 Slipping large tortoiseshell glasses over the bridge
of her nose； she settled back between the chair's wide wings。 They were
a fort； these wings； serving to keep her sights on the fire before
her； rather than on the darkness behind。
Her ticket to freedom lay in her lap。 Ever an avid reader； Anne had
escaped into books in recent months； when all else failed to calm her。
As a friend； a book had advantages over the human variety。 It was there
whenever she needed it； it vanished as easily； and it never asked
questions； expected witty replies； made awkward suggestions； or
otherwise overpensated for its own inability to right the wrongs of
the world。 She had packed a friend…a…day supply for this trip。 That was
all the pany she needed。
The hardcover in her hand was a biography。 She opened it now； and was
suddenly caught up in the same world she was trying to flee。 On the
inside cover of the volume was an inscription that she