Page 127 of The Opposite of Magic
“It’s a perfectly good way to start a story,” she said, elbowing him.
“Yes.” He smiled at her—an entire smile, nothing half about it, which made it impossible to do anything but respond in kind. “It is.”
“Could we go somewhere else, though?” She glanced over her shoulder at the hallway. “It’s just ... well ...”
“I know,” he said. “I feel the same way. But I think you’ll like it better outside.”
He took her hand and led her out the front door, and oh—he was right. A warm breeze ruffled her hair. The air smelled alive. The forest beckoned.
She shrugged off her heavy coat and scarf. They reversed their route from the ill-fated day they were last here together—over the fence, up the embankment, into the clearing with its insinuating ivy—and continued into the beguiling woods beyond.
A fairy-tale backdrop for a true story.
“Right,” he said, holding her hand a bit tighter. “Once upon a time ...”
. . . . .
