Jazz Age Love


Barbara¬†wrote a fashion column in the city paper. Her boss rivaled the dragon lady in “The Devil Wears Prada,” but no matter. One day, she hoped to have her own magazine and she was happy to learn the ropes from a real pro.

It was work all day, then class at night. Business mostly, but writing too. Tuesays and Thursdays she took American Lit. The instructor, Ken specialized in the writings of F. Scott Fitzgerald and being carelessly handsome, as if he’d just stepped off the tennis court.

Sometimes, she imagined that at the end of the semester, when she was no longer his student, he’d ask her out. They’d fall in love and create their own love story. She could see it in her mind’s eye: Barbie and Ken! Read all about it!

And then, one evening, after work, she collected her mail, Christmas cards, mostly. One with no return address and no stamp, either. In it was a note from Ken. “Please turn around,” it said. “I want to see your beautiful face again.”And there he was.

Rev. Kanta Bosniak, Wedding Officiant

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