FOR MAYA, WHO LOOKS.
HAPPY FOURTEENTH.
THERE'S A ROLL IN THE LID. 24 TRIES. DON'T WASTE THEM AND DON'T SAVE THEM EITHER.
That was all. No name.
"That's not so bad," Delphine said, in a small voice, and then seemed to realize she shouldn't have said anything, and put a piece of cassata in her mouth to stop herself.
I turned the tag over.
The back was the side I had seen on the table, the yellowed side with the pencil ruler line. Now I could see that it wasn't blank. It had writing on it too, in ink, faded to the brown that old blue ink goes, in a slanting cursive hand that leaned so far to the right it looked like it was walking into a wind. The tag had been cut down from something bigger. The writing ran off the left edge, so that the first few letters of every line were gone, sliced off by a pair of scissors at some point long after the words were written.
—cy,
—o you'll stop borrowing mine.
—ery picture you take, I'm in it somewhere,