It was his habit to pick up a pen when he read. Being an editor and before that a proof reader made it second nature, he supposed. It was no longer necessary with computers and i-phones, which he hated. He still liked the fluid ink and the way thoughts flowed from brain to pen. So when someone shoved paper on his desk he could not help but read it even though their agency no longer accepted snail mail. It was underscored on the website that such material would be thrown away or redistributed, whatever that meant.
But this was different. The paper had a honeyed smell that intrigued him. Hadn't he once, as a kid, chosen to read the best smelling book in the library and been told off for it? The paper was yellowed and chewed, nibbled on each corner.
He settled back to read. It took an hour, but one of the best he'd spent in a long while. Now to find out who had written this marvel. He searched the green inked lines for a name. There was none, just what looked like a tiny paw print in one corner.
He hated when good writing was anony-mouse.
- Jenny Harp
N.K. Wagner is the Executive Editor and Publisher of Page & Spine.