She carried The Suicide book with her everywhere. That little purple burden. It was both heavy and light. The place where the darkest and saddest parts of her rested. Bella did not particularly want to carry it with her wherever she went. There was the fear of a glance unnoticed over her shoulder, or the terrifying thought that she would set it down to forget it where it lay. It was similar feelings that caused her to bring it with her. God forbid that Nose came across it. Though he may not mean to be intrusive, she thought he may read it out of concern as he knew her best at this moment.
She felt for the book in her bag, more out of habit and silly, unnecessary worry that a book she knew was there wasn’t. She could feel the leather cover, the way the design of leaves and vine were embossed into the cover. It was there. So she sat down and picked up her pen.
She felt away another string in the disentanglement of Bella and Linus