That afternoon, I erased the words Unreliable Narrator from the whiteboard while my last literature students gathered their bags and drifted out of the lecture hall.
“Don’t forget,” I called after them, “the person telling the story isn’t always the person telling the truth.”
A few students laughed, and for one brief moment, I felt calm. I felt steady. I felt like the woman I had worked so hard to become…. Continue Reading
Then my phone buzzed.
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I glanced down and saw Miriam’s name.