a letter

i was following the wrong prompt


a letter in the room where my mother was staying when she broke her arm not long ago. a hand written letter from 1965 . A man she

met at the mental institution in North Carolina when I was six years old. The same place Zelda Fitzgerald stayed at  in the twenties.

In the mountains. We went to visit her there once, my sister and I.

It was a love letter of sorts. Well you had to read between the lines. He was not my father that is all I know.  I gave it back to her with some other papers she had left there. I never mentioned it.




About jensiper

I like to write now and then
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2 Responses to a letter

  1. Elizabeth says:

    Very nice, real or fiction?

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