7:00 P.M.
Corrie sat on the edge of her bed, staring into the open and empty night stand drawer for a long time, regretting that she had not burned the damned book long ago, burned it and buried the ashes.
Every night Corrie faithfully documented all of her moral failings and locked them in that drawer. Most diaries are merely private, but hers was positively incriminating. Barring the early onset of Alzheimer’s disease, there was no way that she could possibly have mislaid the damned thing. Considering what it would cost her if the book fell into the wrong hands, such carelessness was unthinkable. She closed the drawer and immediately opened it again, as though the power of her imagination might correct an error of perception and make the book magically reappear.
It was gone- just GONE
