Where Sticky Notes Are Stored !exclusive! →

Then she looked at the box. At the vacuum. At the closet.

She stuck it to the inside of the hall closet door, right where the vacuum would hide it again. Then she closed the door, sat back in the armchair, and for the first time in days, laughed. where sticky notes are stored

Frustrated, she sat down in the worn armchair where her grandmother used to nap. The house was so quiet she could hear the electric clock ticking in the hallway. She closed her eyes and thought back. Then she looked at the box

Ellen had torn through the obvious spots: the desk drawer, the kitchen junk drawer, the corkboard by the phone. Nothing. She’d checked the refrigerator (too predictable), the bathroom cabinet (too damp), even the underside of the computer mouse (her grandmother’s old trick). Nothing. She stuck it to the inside of the

She pulled it out. The flaps were tucked, not taped. Inside: twelve pristine packs of sticky notes. Canary yellow. And tucked between two of the packs, like a bookmark, was the note.

“The best hiding place isn’t the strange one. It’s the place you walk past every day without thinking.”