She Was Sitting In My Front-Row Seat Holding My Novel — Smiling Like She Had Stolen My Life

of important men.

Grandmothers with manuscripts in tote bags.

Daughters who had come with mothers they were still learning to forgive.

The front row center aisle seat was empty when I walked in.

A black card rested against the back.

Not Evelyn Pierce.

Not Aurelia Wren.

The card read Reserved For The Woman Who Is Done Standing In The Aisle.

Anna read it and continue reading …