![]() ![]() I would stare out at the grey Champaign, Illinois snow as though marooned inside a house on the moors. And it was, at least, in keeping with my historical preoccupations I liked to imagine myself a Victorian lady or waif. The stationary was far too ornate for me at eleven years old, but I was also tall for my age and timelessly unhip in my Lands’ End shirts and dresses. ![]() ![]() Centered on the top of the page, in the same dark teal of the thin-lined borders, “Jackie Hedeman” presided over the letter in a printed approximation of script. The envelopes came with gem-toned paisley interior print. I wrote it on thick, expensive stationary, a gift from my grandmother. I am standing at Lizza Aiken’s door because, more than fifteen years ago, I wrote a letter to her mother. Sign up for our newsletter to get submission announcements and stay on top of our best work. ![]()
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