“No going back?” Alex asked, clutching the counter of the English office. Her stomach wanted to crawl up her throat, leap out her mouth, and run screaming into the street. Her heart agreed. “All set. You look so excited.” Annabelle, one of the English department secretaries, grinned at her, displaying crooked teeth along with her stunning lack of observational skills. “Thrilled,” Alex lied. Hey, she’d been doing it all day, why change tactics now? “Tuesday then. The Harper Room in the St...udent Center.” “Tuesday.” Annabelle rattled her pen on the glass counter top. “I heard that Dr. Gregor has been telling everyone how insightful your thesis is. I had no idea you were even interested in Sylvia Plath.” “Yes, well, I guess when Melanie killed herself, it struck a chord with me.” The lies felt like bathtub ring, waxy and vile. Annabelle sniffed. “Poor Melanie.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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