Chapter 9
Jefferson spent his days, and his nights, composing letters he would never send. He wrote until his hand cramped. He wrote until he ran out of paper and his inkwell ran dry. When he tried to switch from prose to verse, his hand stilled and his words would disappear. Some letters, he burned. Some letters, he saved. Some letters, he reread and revised and rewrote. And then he burned them too.
In two weeks, he left his home twice. Once for the mercantile, when he needed basic foodstuffs and more paper, and once for the post. Other than that, Jefferson couldn’t be bothered. Even returning to the church was beyond his capabilities. The second week of his absence prompted a visit from Reverend Deem. Jefferson only considered not opening the door for a few seconds before he obligingly
