The theater was doing operetta. I loathed operetta. I could sing, of course, but it always felt cheap, somehow. And it always seemed to end up with me playing an instrument on stage. The chorus girls danced around in their small costumes, and predictably, love conquered evil, comedy rocked the house, and all was well that ended well. It felt like a cheat; my life was still miserable. I wasn't with my friends, I wasn't enjoying my work, and I had exhausted most of my best spell components to cast the protection spells Henry had helped me with. And I felt like I had abandoned Edward; but I wasn't sure what I would say to him.
'Thank you for the offer of immortality but I'll take a messy painfully death'? Since I knew them both, I didn't even know why I was so dead set against the idea.
And in the dark hours of the night, as I lay alone, in pain, my resolve weakened, and I went to see them again.
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a little brown book
finding the life of Alexander Shaw, a kind of serial story.
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