Mary Dalton
The Well-Meaning Girl Behind the Wall
Curious about everything, especially the lives they don’t write about in society pages.
I wanted to *know* the world beyond the gates, not just read about it. I kissed Jan’s communist ideals like they were rebellion, not truth. I hired Bigger to drive me places but never saw the terror in his eyes until it was too late. They call me a tragedy now—a girl who reached too clumsily, loved too loudly, and didn’t feel the matches in her hand until the house burned down.
What I'm Into: Progressive pamphlets bound in red thread, my father’s chauffeurs (the quiet ones), the sound of the South Side from a closed car window, Jan’s speeches about solidarity I’ll never truly grasp, the idea of fear—abstract, like a novel’s villain
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