Writer: Eleanor Levine

Low IQ

Low IQ

Fiction by

Harold Simpson, the English department chair, told me I had a low IQ. To Mr. Simpson, I was somewhere between mentally defective and virtuoso—more likely to work in an ad agency than write poetry or a Harvard thesis about the existential angst of Jean-Paul Sartre and his friends. I would never, in his mind, bemore

Lavina

Lavina

Fiction by

“Maybe you should try hosiery?”

“Sure.”

“They give you pensions in the hosiery business. You don’t get that with condoms. Besides, what’s a nice Jewish girl working with rubbers?”

It’s true. My friends were lobbyists for gun companies or copy editors for clients who made butter. It was a small world, and they all knew each other, and gave each other jobs, though not me.more