Beneath all that plastic leather, silver jewelry and costume gemstones, runny kajal and a loyal cirrus of hairspray and cologne, my brother’s beauty lies untouched, as I remember it, as it was before he ruined it, perhaps to hurt me, perhaps to hurt himself.

Sometimes my dreams take the shape of my secretaries’ slender calves, mirages of whiteness twisting under the blue skirts I used to dress them in. Not my favorite dolls, but the ones I found easiest to play with.

He has a new client here, I’ve been told. That would explain the voices I heard yesterday morning, when all I could do was bask in the fantasy of him. One would expect to be notified of such a thing: I could’ve shifted closer, listened more carefully, loved a little less madly.

One of the best purchases I made in my youth was a tiny family crypt in Cedar Hill Cemetery. In time, it will become the place where I will face east forever, lovingly cradled by oaks and cedars and pines and the presence of my dear brother resting right beside me.

Many years ago, on Valentine’s Day, I discovered that some of the strange glances men directed my way weren't meant to mock, but to show unfiltered interest.

March 1st: caught between winter and spring. Sunny, cloudy, windy, rainy, all at once. The day I expected my daffodils to bloom, my chocolate cake to be served, my new toys to be unwrapped. March 1st: my birthday.

🎂

I finally had the pleasure of meeting the new unit officer. A young man, not exactly handsome, but pleasant enough to the eye and, most importantly, not inclined toward violence or humiliation. I can already see the two of us becoming good friends :)

With horror, I realized that Wright might be the kind of groom who would choose to dress in white. White DOES NOT suit his complexion. A subdued shade of dark blue, or even a creamy tone, would make him look far better.

This man is never grateful for second chances.

Raymond Shields, Esq. We should play poker some time my friend

Wind used to scare my little brother. When it blew through my long hair, he would try and grab the flying strands. He would cower when dead leaves moved and spun around his feet. I had to pick him up so that he could hide against me. He was cute like that.

A good friend of mine, T., walked me around this evening and kindly let me explore the renovated spaces I had heard about. As you can see, we’re getting a few new offices. The smell of fresh paint feels unexpectedly nostalgic to me.

Not once have I ever wished I hadn’t killed Zak Gramarye.

1. [From: Phoenix Wright Message: You still owe me 15 bucks.] To: Wright Anything Agency Message: You never returned the microwave oven you stole from my kitchen wall after yours caught fire.