Page 6 - My FlipBook

Unwritten

V

Gracie paced in front of the mirror, waiting for Gertrude
Winters to come out of her stall. She caught a glimpse of herself
and was startled by the wild look in her eyes. She had to calm

down or Gertrude Winters was going to think she was crazy.
Maybe she was crazy. After all, she’d stalked an author into the
bathroom. Gracie smoothed her hair. She splashed water on her
face. What was taking so long? Gracie probably shouldn’t question

her while she was still in her stall; she might get mad. And then
Gertrude Winters came out and washed her hands at the other
sink. She smiled at Gracie in the mirror.
“Please,” Gracie blurted out. “Tell me anything you remember
about your Bondoff story. Tell me about Gracie.”
Gertrude Winters slowly dried her hands on a paper towel.

“Why are you so fascinated with that story? How do you even
know about it?”
“I can’t tell you,” Gracie said. “But it’s important.”
“Like I said, I don’t remember much about it. It was a kind of
fairy tale, a novel I wrote for adults. It didn’t work very well, so I

threw away the draft and wrote something new.”
Gracie caught Gertrude Winters by the sleeve. “Please, you
have to try to remember more than that. I need to know—”
Gertrude Winters was looking past Gracie now, over her
shoulder at the door, as if trying to think of some way to escape.
“I have to go. I’m running late.”

Gracie gripped her sleeve tighter. “Please, I need to know.
I’m—” Gracie took a deep breath. “I’m Gracie. From the story. I

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