(1) Every Friday Morning

Every Friday morning she would burst through her grand bedroom doors before the maids could wake her or the doormen move from their post. She rushes down the hallways and the staircases as she makes her way to the mansion’s front entrance. Her eyes were filled with hope today as she threw open the door to greet the postal men in her nightgown, much to her nannies’ distress. The postal men would hand over the bound stack of letters that were addressed to the estate and our young lady would anxiously wait as the heads of the workers went through and passed out each one.