Grandma, I’ve heard this story before. There are the same card tables while Judge Judy barks in the background and we play solitaire before supper at four. The pictures appear different each time, fading when we open the cover. You look the same but the rest of them are frozen in 60s beehives, everyone so drawn and white. People have told you before you look so nice and you believe them, of course, because no one has to lie when they’re poor. But that woman, that woman in the black—the wife of the president—she has so much money. She shopped at Neiman’s and tells you, “You look nice. Is it Neiman's?” Oh, but she’s so stupid and you fool another one, very nice, making your own clothes in your own basement at your own sewing machine. The kids have grown, you have so much time, you can make it look better than the rest of the slobs in their basements. No one has to know, but you’ll know.