But she never threw it away, either.
Dara stared at the cursor. Her truest story. The one she hadn't told anyone. It sat in her chest like a swallowed key. She was twelve. She had watched her father delete his entire life's work—a novel, seven hundred pages—because a critic had called it "ambitious but hollow." She had done nothing. She had stood in the doorway of his study and watched his finger hover over the delete key, and she had said nothing. He had never written again. woowuncut
Then a second line:
The drive tray opened. Inside lay a single, unlabeled DVD. But she never threw it away, either