Please?" "Alright young man, one more day. I need you to go into town and pick up a few things. Think you can manage that?" "Sure can. Be back in a ji...fy." Anything was better than getting the job talk for the thousandth time. Summer had just started, and I was a twenty-two year old African Amercian male who had recently graduated college with a degree in writing. I knew I had wanted to be a writer from an early age, but finding work related to my desired profession was proving difficult. I. Virginia kept swiping through photo after photo of the party last night on Meredith’s Instagram, even though she hated looking at them. There was Robert as Don Draper and Meredith as Peggy, in a bob wig and retro skirt suit. Back home in Virginia’s closet was a flame-colored wig and a to-die-for emerald green, totally ’60s dress. But there was no Joan Holloway to be found, because she was at her stupid friend’s stupid wedding and Don and fucking Peggy were laughing, smiling, posing for. More

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