Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Love,
Josie
Josie,
What did you say? I was thinking of your perma-hard nipples and my brain went offline.
Also, I’m about to get on that cushy plane for a road trip. It’s to the East Coast, but the wrong part. The big toe of Florida. If I were any closer I’d sneak off and see you. Not just because of the nips though. Because I fucking miss you every day and as much as I love FuckTime, I want the real thing.
Love, Wes
January 21
Dear Wesley,
I have an intern! She’s amazing. Her name is Penelope, she’s a mom to a ten-year-old boy, and she went back to school at age thirty-two to get her master’s degree. I adore her. She loves shoes, makeup, books, and her kid, though not in that order of course. We’re working on the digitization initiatives together and yesterday, we nerded out over metadata and how to best organize a catalog. It was heaven!
Then, we went to a taco shop with her son (who loves hockey, but the Boston team), and I asked them to turn on your game, and I seriously went wild when my boyfriend scored a goal. Penelope said, “That’s a boyfriend goal for you.”
That felt sort of apropos. To the game and also to you.
Love, Josie
Josie,
Got back to the hotel room late and crashed hard. The thought of you watching my game is still the hottest thing ever—you better have worn my jersey. Only a few more weeks now till I can see you again. P.S. I called Thalia to see if she needed help at any more Friends of the Library fundraisers, so I’ll be serving pancakes again next weekend.
Xo
Wes
Dear Wesley,
And I love you even more for volunteering at the library. I will reward you with several extra blow jobs. Wait. That’s a reward for me, too, given how much I love your dick.
Josie
Josie,
My dick loves you too, so it’s a reward for both of us.
Wes
February 4
Dear Wesley,
I feel terrible doing this but my boss asked me to lead a seminar the day you were going to come visit. She needs me to fill in because the other librarian is sick. Flu season is the worst, but I’m sturdy, and I haven’t so much as had a sniffle.
I’m sorry! I hate long-distance. I miss you. But I passed a record shop the other day, and I popped in and asked them what someone who likes Ben Rogers, the Good Neighbors Band, and The Last Shadow Puppets would like, and well, surprise! The record shop in Hayes Valley should have dropped it off for you. It’s a consolation prize.
Josie
Josie,
I’m listening to this new Mini Mansions right now. I can’t stop thinking of you. But that’s every day.
Wes
February 14
Dear Wesley,
Six dozen pink roses! For the number of weeks left till I return to San Francisco! They’re perfect.
Love, Josie
Josie,
So are the chocolates you sent from Elodie’s. I had one. I’m savoring them.
P.S. It was great talking to you last night. I’m glad you’re loving it there.
Wes
February 15
Dear Wesley,
I do love it. I really do. But I love you too. And I wish I could see you. I had a hard day today.
Your Josie
53
THE BRIGHT SPOT
Wesley
It’s six in the evening, and we’ve beaten Philly in an afternoon game on their turf when I finish reading her letter. I’m heading out of the home team’s arena to the Sea Dogs bus, but I’ve got five minutes before we go, so I duck down a quiet hall and dial her number, since she clearly needs to talk, and I want to be there.
“Why did you have a bad day?” I ask when she answers.
“Because everything went wrong,” she says, frustration in her tone, but not like she’s mad at the world. More like she’s upset she couldn’t fix everything. “The screen froze during my class, which wasn’t the worst thing because I knew the material, but it was still challenging—I don’t love improv, as you know. But I handled it. Then later, I was trying to help a patron digitize some home movies and the computer ate one of his movies and he yelled at me.”
I growl at that asshat in Boston. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know. It was just a computer glitch, but he was angry and wanted to lash out. He’d been telling me he was getting a divorce and wanted to copy over these old movies before his wife took them. I figured he was going through something.”
“It’s no excuse to be mean,” I say. “If I were there, I’d give him a piece of my mind.”
I hear her smile as she says, “I know you would.” She pauses, then soldiers on. “But it was one of those days where everything went wrong. Another guy was waiting to pick up a book and it was taking a while to find it so he oh-so-helpfully yelled at me that his taxes paid my salary. Our circulation software went down, and it was like one thing after another. But there was one bright spot.”