After Lucas began working for me, he and Stephanie started writing letters back and forth to each other, which I found rather charming. Two star-crossed lovers kept apart by fate, in the form of me and my trusty taser. 

When the quarantine was imposed, I found myself going stir crazy and, desperate for a project to work on, I asked Lucas if he would mind if I published selected excerpts from their personal correspondence. Lucas said no, citing his right to privacy, which, all things considered, was pretty hilarious.

So here we go...

Dear Stephanie,

Well, this feels retro, doesn't it? Corresponding by snail mail! I feel like one of those ridiculous old people who refused to give up on AOL because the internet scared them. I mean, I don't think I've ever written a letter before. I feel like I should grow a big beard and join the Union Army under the name Josiah Jackson.

My dearest Eloise, how I yearn to hear your voice, to caress your face, to see your unshaven armpits which is not unusual at this particular time in American history...

Anyway, as you probably noticed, I haven't been around for the last few days. Don't worry, it had nothing to do with our little spat. I actually had a really good reason: I've been kidnapped! Again! By the same guy! Can you believe it? I was dragged back to the same place as before and locked in the same cage! It's unreal! I feel like I'm in a mashup of Groundhog's Day and Taken.

Ned Ryerson! I have a particular set of skills. I did the whistling belly button trick! It was all personal to me! Bing!

So I have a favor to ask you: When you get a minute, please call the police and put this nightmare behind me. Can you do that for me? Then we can talk about the thing you wanted to talk about.

Yours truly,

Josiah (aka Lucas)

P.S. In case you're wondering, armpit shaving didn't become the norm until 1915 after Harper's Bazaar featured a model in a sleeveless evening gown.

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My Dearest Josiah,

How I have counted the days since you departed for the glorious battlefield. Of course, I do a lot more than sit around waiting for a man; feminism is coming into its own at this point in American history and I am a proud suffragette! Justice Demands the vote! And I vote to keep my armpits unshorn, whether you like it or not!

Ha-ha!

Seriously, you're sweet to be concerned about me, but Aaron told me where he was taking you and what you'd be doing. (I said goodbye but you probably didn't hear me because you had just been tased. You were twitching a lot, but Aaron assured me that was normal.) It's all so exciting! And it's great that the two of you have gotten to reconnect. Such a special relationship you have! Kind of a mash-up of Dead Poets Society and All The President's Men.

Seize the Day! Follow the money! We're laughing near you! Where's the goddam story?

As to our little squabble, I blame myself. I agreed to move in with you of my own free will, but truth be told over time it started feeling like I was trapped in a cage! (Not literally, of course. I can go anywhere I want, any time I want. But you know what I mean, right?)

I'm not saying it was your fault, but I am saying that we should welcome this opportunity to enjoy some breathing room, after which we will come back together with our relationship stronger than ever!

Can't wait to hear about the interviews! Give my best to Aaron!

Fondly,

Eloise (aka Stephanie)

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Dear Stephanie,

We had our first interview with that Lila woman. I felt like I needed a shower to wash away all the racism. (Of course, I technically don't get showers; instead I am chained to a stake in Aaron's backyard and squirted by a hose. It's very refreshing!) Lila is like an oblivious New Age Cruella De Vil who would gladly kill puppies, but wouldn't make them into a coat because she believes that fur is murder. Listening to her story, I was rooting for the zombie!

Anyway...

I'm glad you're not worried about me. With everything else going on, the last thing you need is something else weighing on your mind. And I completely understand that living with me can be difficult sometimes. Although we had only lived together for six hours, not counting unpacking time. But I hear you! I'm definitely fine with giving you more space. All the space you want.

Along those lines, I would still appreciate it if, when you have a moment, you'd call the authorities and get them to free me. Thanks in advance!

Sincerely,

Lucas

P.S. Just to be clear, in my last letter I was not insinuating that you you should shave your armpits. I just thought it was an interesting historical factoid.

P.P.S. And speaking of historical, the term "suffragette" didn't exist until 1902, so your use of it in a Civil War context was somewhat of an anachronism.

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Dear Lucas,

Thank you so much for understanding! Thanks, too for informing me of my error about the use of the word suffragette. I'm lucky to have you around to correct me on even the littlest things! So fun!

In other news, we had our first zombie sighting on our block! It was really scary! But you remember Shirtless Lars, right? The neighbor we used to make fun of for mowing his lawn sans shirt to show off his 300 abs? And we'd shout, "This is Sparta!" and giggle together because Shirtless Lars had not seen the movie and had no idea what we were talking about? Well, the zombie wandered onto his lawn and he killed it with his power mower!

It was pretty grisly. Like something out of a Saw film. And for me it was a huge wake-up call about the danger we're in. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm thinking of buying a gun.

Warmly,

Stephanie

P.S. I get it! You want me to shave my armpits. Duly noted.

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Dear Stephanie,

I am so sorry you had to go through that ordeal! Although I'm not sure if Saw is an apt analogy — the kills in the Saw franchise were a lot more elaborate and diabolical than mindlessly attacking someone with a lawnmower (plus, there tended to be a twisted moral component as well) — but I get what you're saying. And believe it or not, I witnessed something equally awful. Remember Kenny Lee? The bartender? Well, he has joined the ranks of the non-living! Aaron and I were there for his final words as a human. They were, um, not great. A lot of complaining about a woman who didn't shave her body hair.

Which, just to reiterate, I am fine with!

In terms of a gun, one thing we learned was that guns do not kill zombies! Even if you shoot them in the head!

On that note, though, I hate to sound like a repeating hologram sent from Princess Leia, but I would really like to get out of here. I'm not only thinking about me, but more about you. The zombie situation is getting worse. And I hate to go all testosterone on you, but sometimes you need a man to protect you. And this is one of those times.

Respectfully,

Lucas

P.S. Truly, I love that you are au naturel. Honest!

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Dear Lucas,

Oh, my God! They killed Kenny! You bastards!

Yes, I know. It's in terrible taste. But in times like this, you need a dark sense of humor, wouldn't you agree?

Truly, this is horrible news. I'd compare it to something, but I really don't want you to nitpick my terror in this particular moment. Likewise, I've had enough talk about my armpit hair to last a lifetime. I get it. You think it's gross. And all the Marvel Heroines you drool over are all nice and smooth but I'll let you in on a little secret. It's a pain in the neck to shave all the time, OK? I have to exfoliate and moisturize and I still get ingrown hairs and razor burn. I heard at some point that someone was working on a pill that would eliminate body hair and believe me, I would take it in a heartbeat if it was available, but it's not, so just drop it, already, OK?

I'm sorry. I'm tense. You're tense. These are tense times. And you are completely right about how vulnerable I am out here, living all alone! This is no time for vanity. I do need a man to protect me. And you will be relieved to know that I've talked to Shirtless Lars and he's going to stay with me to make sure I'm all right.

I do appreciate your concern.

Your friend,

Stephanie

(Continued...)