An Encounter in Business Correspondence

She seals her letters with a shiny red heart peeled from a sheet of shiny red hearts. Maybe there are blue hearts also. No, there are never blue hearts. You can't buy those. My name and address float in bubble letters. In autumn, leaves fall across the back of the envelope and in winter, snowflakes, all similar but none the same.

In discussing Law, she spells perjury as if a cat lied under oath. Perhaps it denied walking on the kitchen counter or spitting up a hairball in the back of the closet or sitting on your face while you sleep. There is no honesty in those yellow eyes.

I imagine she smiles so simply. Girlish. I wonder how she survives in this mean city, in what corners of life her personality flourishes.
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