The woman with the severe skirt settles down across the aisle from me. “I’ve won twenty short story awards.” Her voice is a melody of Southern culture, the “I” and “r’s” softened just enough to reveal her region, but the grammar word perfect. She smiles at me.

“Hi, I’m Jessie.”  I exaggerate my long Midwestern “I” and type into the computer straddling my lap..

“Oh. I’m Camille. You said you are… Jerry?” She squints at my name badge, which has been flipped around backwards since I got on the conference center elevator and bent over to tie some kid’s shoe.

“Lisa actually.… Read the rest