Atrapada En Libros -

Outside, the world asks for receipts, timelines, replies. But here, she is late for a tea party with a rabbit, still waiting for a letter that never comes, walking the moors with a woman who may or may not have a secret. Time is a thing that happens to other people.

Yes. Always yes.

Now the pages have grown around her like walls. The spines are the ribs of a small, warm cage. She sleeps between paragraphs and wakes to the smell of old paper—vanilla, dust, and the ghost of someone else's pencil marks. atrapada en libros

Atrapada en libros. Not trapped. Held.

She is not a prisoner. She is a volunteer. And the lock, if there ever was one, is made of ink. Outside, the world asks for receipts, timelines, replies