“she did decide that she would sleep in Tom’s own bunk. Once. She moved the blankets and his uppermost pillow, intending to straighten them and to curl underneath the sheets with her face toward the wall, her breath reflecting off the glass bricks in a phantom intimation of Tom’s own breathing. As her bandaged fingers slipped under the pillow, she found a slick and pliant square of material in the cotton casing. She pulled it out, and was greeted by a slick greenish-white square of blankness, 3....5 inches wide and 4.25 inches high. Intuitively knowing those dimensions and struggling to quiet a thrill of recognition, Sophie cried out and flipped the Polaroid over so she could see the antique image upon its face. What she found was herself, aged nineteen with her arms poised over her head, glorying in the impossibly distant faerie-realm of Yesterday, the torrid summer of 1992. An endearingly skinny and sharp-elbowed Thomas was grinning behind her with his hands around her waist, and her arms were lifted behind her to hug the back of his head.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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