The Draft I Wasn't Supposed to Keep

I crossed this chapter out.
Then I saved it to a folder I don't open often.

It's the version of me that was still explaining herself. Still making sure you'd understand before she let you in. I've since learned that's not how I work — and not how the good ones want to be let in either.

But there's something true in it that the final version doesn't have anymore.

A cold white mocha. A specimen with no name yet. A decision I'd already made before I admitted I'd made it.

If you're the kind of person who reads the margins — this is yours.