*Odette*
Because Lupo's bed is the most comfortable piece of furniture in the entire residence, I find myself curled up on it with a mound of pillows supporting my back as I read Pride and Prejudice. I am aware that Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy are meant to be together, although the scandalous details escape my memory.
It's peculiar. With each page I read, it feels as though I've read it before, perhaps in a cozy nook or beneath the shade of an elm tree. Why didn't immersing myself in my responsibilities today trigger the same feeling?
I contemplate the significance of knowing the past, wondering if it truly matters. Curiously, not knowing it seems to lighten my spirits. What did it entail?
Setting the novel aside, I reach for the book on household management that I had placed on the
