To Kill A Mockingbird Diary Analysis

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On the drive home from Scott’s birthday bash, the night’s events blitz my brain.
What in the hell possessed me to bring up Elizabeth? Not that I regret it. His secret festered inside me. I had to blow the top off it. Or go crazy harboring it.
I blame the tequila shots on my loose lips. Oh, how it gave me false bravado. Now I worry about the consequences.
What if Graydon doesn’t want to read my copy anymore? Or he decides to find another person to proof his manuscript. I should’ve thought about that.
Minutes from home, my brain scrambles to get my story straight before I walk through the front door. More than anything, I need to calm my nerves. I switch on the radio to the classical station. Whatever music I’m listening
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I open the door and he rushes out ahead of me. While he sniffs, I notice nothing unusual, except my Hydrangea plant has been knocked over onto its side. The most likely culprit is the neighborhood cat. He jumps the raised fence often while tracking down his next meal. I lift the plant vertical while Atticus sniffs further.
I move to the sidewalk. The street’s quiet this morning with few cars and one young woman walking her grey Pit Bull. No cat in sight.
We go back inside and I phone the last two Starbucks. Still, I have no luck finding Kathy. Although on the second call, an older woman offers to leave a note with my name and number for the night shift. “That’s the best I can do,” she says.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
For a brief second, I think why do I even want to speak with Kathy? Except that, I want her take on what happened to Elizabeth. She worked at the house when it all went down. She’d know better than anyone whether Graydon is a good guy, a nefarious liar or worse.
A second opinion is necessary, other than my parents. Since my judgement in men took a nose dive after my affair with Simon.
Now I can’t trust myself to make sound decisions about men or anything.
With that admission, I stagger into the bedroom, change my clothes and drive to the
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“You came in late this morning,” he whispers in my ear.
I turn. “How do you know that?”
“I have eyes and ears everywhere. Are you okay? Any problems or concerns you want to tell me about.”
“No. I’m fine. I love my office, but sometimes I like to work at home. No distractions. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Well you can’t keep your office if you don’t work there. HR will get on my ass. We have a shortage of office space already. Besides that, you’re the copywriter on our newest account. The bar is set higher for you, but you already that.”
I nod. “Right. No room to fuck up.”
Simon smiles, grabs a piece of cake and circulates. I leave the reception area and walk back to my office. On the way, I stop off at the kitchen and grab a cup of coffee.
Back in my office, I check my cell: 3:41 P.M. Time enough to come up with a catchy headline for the “Wild Beast.” Simon made it clear the pressure’s on. I settle in when my cell rings. There’s no phone number, just the words PRIVATE CALLER. I quickly answer. “Hello.”
“Hi, it’s Kathy. I heard you were looking for

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