The bloody handprint.
That's Naomi's handwriting on the first round of hyperbole, shaping up, sculpting the hyperbole.
Achingly, in this electronic age, the world where City of Seattle job descriptions are chockfull of spelling and grammatical apocalypses, is her note "add a space" between the recommendation closing paragraph and the 'Sincerely'. Presentation upon physical letterhead of paramount importance in those halcyon days, pre-WWW, where interns on runs relied on Thomas Guides, the spiral bound book itself or Xerox-ed copies of routes.
The date on the letter is damning.
Ixtlan closed up late summer of '96. I stayed on, unpaid, Salacious Crumb-like, until February of '97, opening mail, drinking Yoo Hoo and snarfing free food as it became available.