Chapter 21
Is this what love feels like?
My fibers are tight and twisted, and I’m perched on the edge of nervous panic. But I am light, buoyant, blushing at my thoughts. I am meant to be working, to help Esmé understand me. Yet all I can think about is my François. He lies open on the table, where I left him, his spread of pages inviting me back. I am desperate to be with him, next to him, however I’m in Esmé’s hands, so I must work. I try to perform for her, but I’m skipping words, ending one line then returning to its start. I can see Esmé struggle to follow me while Dictionary shouts, “A little distracted, are we? Feeling guilty?”
“I have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“Then foolish. It will come. If not today, soon, and for every day thereafter.”
“Why can’t you believe that maybe
