loitering in ransacking my office, Henry pulled down a stack of books and tore out a page at random.
“Here Mama,” he said, handing me page 143 in an old Sark book. I was too tired to lecture him on the sanctity of books, so I tossed aside the paper and moved on. Tonight as I was picking up the house I came across the orphaned page. This is it.
My child is a sage, no?