Chapter Two
Melanie spent the afternoon just as she had the morning, feeling lonelier by the minute. She could hardly concentrate on her work for thinking of the horrible impasse between she and her husband. By four o'clock she wandered back to her attic perch, sitting down in the old chair with the diary in hand, ready to dive into a world that seemed much more pleasant and exciting than her own. Though she'd only spent a few hours with her Aunt's amazing journal, it was already a prized possession, the smell of its leather cover and the soft pages, delivering a perfume of another time to tickle her nostrils and her romantic sensibilities. I can't believe I'm writing about this once again, but I don't really know how else to unburden myself. These empty pages seem the on
