Fiction | September 01, 2001
Alice in Dairyland
Jesse Kercheval
When the phone rang, I was in bed inder the covers, trying to stay warm. As I ran to answer, I saw that it was snowing again. I’d been in Wisconson, America’s frozen dairy land, nearly six years, so I should have been used to it, but I was a Florida girl at heart, and each took me by suprise. “Alice Anne?” a voice said. My name came out slurred, like it was Allison.
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