Page 3 - My FlipBook

CHAPTER 1

Saturday, April 29

Who would leave a purple paper moon behind?
I stare at it. It may as well be a neon sign.
I should leave it there, wedged between the window and the
snack counter.
But I can’t help it. It’s not every day you find an origami
moon at your favorite coffee shop, right near your usual seat,
where someone carved I was here into the weathered and worn
counter. (And how existential is that? If you’re reading it, it
applies to you, because you were here, too. Brilliant.)
I set down my books and sweep the moon into my pile of
weekend homework. But the moon beckons me from atop my
statistics text, as if to say: Unfold me, Madelaine.
Slowly, I obey.
The paper is thick, and it’s a rare shimmery purplish green.
If we’re talking Crayola, it’d be sort of Thistle woven with
Seafoam.
When I catch sight of a typewritten font on the underside—
Times New Roman, I think—I nearly gasp. There are words
inside. I don’t know if I’m more excited to see what message
is here, or anxious that I could be invading someone’s privacy,
which I really hate to do.

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