She picks up the dusty old book, gently blowing the layers of years accumulated history off the top. Scattering it like glitter and memories in the streaming sunlight.
Cracking the spine that hasn't been opened in too long.
She runs her hands of over the thick blank page and picks up her pen.
Breathing in a deep sigh of relief Ambition? Concern? She drags the pen across the page. Ink flowing in loopy lines.
Will anyone remember her?
Will anyone care?
She pushes doubt to the dark shadows and let's the pen flow.
This is her story, and it starts here, now.