tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63178084198895164762024-03-24T16:31:55.799-07:00Follow the MuseAmy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.comBlogger814125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-41615417681437121702024-03-07T08:12:00.000-08:002024-03-07T08:26:26.313-08:00A Millennial romp through Jane Austen<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CX41J1L4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="1410" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKnvx71rXJcQaUmZ-QjqBwMu_G7A7uYi2L1u-p4N3vJQSGzRJewYW53pfiLjI5Nwydm5HhxK7XIdnEQwJVPwShEM6P455-4X8ptdyMEOiKkEw657akAOn3Ncxy4pN0yZOgNhCv0nz66eO8UL4m7INpeyOed-a2V2E2FiZKniRHZjeoWyN0oUuwAA403s4=w250-h400" width="250" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>A few years back I wrote this story about a fifteen-year-old girl named Frankie drudging through a very complicated life in a fictional small town called Haleman, Iowa. Recently, I decided to reedit the manuscript for publication because there was something charming and genuine about the story that has never left me. Usually I . . . hate my work and think it blows chunks.<div><br /></div><div>Little did it occur to me at the time of writing that I was capturing a ton of early 2000s nostalgia that has now changed or become non-existent (twitter anyone?). It also hit me after watching and reading many versions of the film and book, that I had penned a modern-day version of Pride and Prejudice, one of my nightly hyper fixations. If you are a Jane Austen junkie, like me, you don't care. There's never enough Austen. <p></p></div><div>The story is also based on the era of time my Catholic mother sent my sister and I to a different high school because my sister was too wild. FRESHMAN YEAR. The <i>worst </i>year you could ever be relegated to newbie status. I mean, walking through those doors you're already fresh meat, and being from a different town made me a double threat: a <i>newbie </i>newbie. Ouch. Plus, my body was changing, doing weird shit. In a matter of weeks, none of my jeans fit and everything seemed to be in my way. Then out of nowhere I got my menses <i>and </i>developed boobies. Add red hair, freckles, crooked teeth. Welp, I wasn't Giselle Bundchen. However, those miserable days of awkwardness and freakdom became a great inspiration for this book and daily excuse to remind my kids that <i>their </i>life is sparkling unicorn ass compared to their mom's freshman year. The year I still refer to as . . . <i>HELL</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>I survived <i>HELL </i>and all I have to show for it is this crummy T-shirt. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anywho, it is my deepest wish that you will download and read my little tromp through time with hints of Regency doomsday romance. Oh, and silent movies. It's clear that I know way too much about that particular topic, and now<i> you can too</i> for the low price of $8.</div><div><br /></div><div>Just know that if you do read <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CX5GRVNG">My Zygotic Creation</a> and leave a review, I'll perform a curtsy and sing Greensleeves. Yes . . . I know . . . you've been asking for a long time . . .</div><div><br /></div><div>As always, thank you for reading and stopping by.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CX5GRVNG">My Zygotic Creation </a></div>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-42390354216461469222024-01-06T05:41:00.000-08:002024-01-06T06:06:08.311-08:00Remember Jan 6<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0pkIsaH-yoOdSLkuuVNt8bbcJACy-9g7w3SZn5tvidQ_pC8SFjDWhvvD_Shyphenhyphenh9npRLdPntb0n58ofXexJZYkg9VfqjTI3h8cb7PGJ89eLA0C-BjmwTiaOcnI_JXvHJSn0tD-2oqYuiDDszSLwMVbXSl4CqDJGm8OoHfr6EDSLbv2L6zhPF5veYLgmYM/s669/B8885F1A-C6EF-41E9-AE92-8FA7CB0DBFEC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="669" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0pkIsaH-yoOdSLkuuVNt8bbcJACy-9g7w3SZn5tvidQ_pC8SFjDWhvvD_Shyphenhyphenh9npRLdPntb0n58ofXexJZYkg9VfqjTI3h8cb7PGJ89eLA0C-BjmwTiaOcnI_JXvHJSn0tD-2oqYuiDDszSLwMVbXSl4CqDJGm8OoHfr6EDSLbv2L6zhPF5veYLgmYM/s320/B8885F1A-C6EF-41E9-AE92-8FA7CB0DBFEC.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">A few days before Jan 6, Trump supporters pushed back against cops at one of their protests, and I remember many of us online reacting with fear that they no longer respected the law and what did that mean? Tr*mp himself had shown he would not concede. He hadn’t even allowed Biden into the customary pre-inauguration White House visit that Obama had allowed for Trump. Prospects did not look good. It was clear there was one side against the other and we were in a veritable Civil War. </span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">When Tr*mp said he was having a rally outside the capital January 6–the day the electoral votes were counted—I felt dread. He had not conceded and was not giving up. I said to my daughter, “It’s going to be violent and at least one person will die. Tr*mp’s not giving in. He has something under his sleeve .” </span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">The morning of January 6, the kids went back to school after winter break, snow was on the ground and the radio played, ‘Lawyers and guns and money.’ In the back of my mind, would Pence certify the election?</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">Trump’s rally began, and</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">it was announced Pence would certify. That’s when he said to his crowd, “Pence let us down.” And in the crowd you could hear “Hang Pence, kill Mike Pence.” </span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">The live counting began only to be delayed by Ted Cruz opposing. That delay was when Trump sent his angry mob to the capital saying, “Fight like hell.” People with red hats and Tr*mp flags scaled walls and broke windows. They pushed and beat the security guards. I remember seeing birds dive-bomb the protesters and thought that it was angels trying to stop them.</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">The protestors made their way in like rabid dogs. It was horrifying watching this on TV and all of us on Twitter asked why they wouldn’t tell Trump to put an end to the insurrection?</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">My kids came home from school and saw the chaos of MAGA zombies sitting in Pelosi‘s chair, going into her office destroying peeing, defecating, laughing enjoying—still Trump does not call them off.</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">Finally late in the day,</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">he posts a video saying he loves them. He loves his violent protesters. He loves that they were gonna kill Pence. He loves them but</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">they better go home. Thanks for trying. I said by the grace of God our capital was protected and our votes were counted that night.</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">They came back and counted the electoral votes and Democracy was saved with bated breath. Biden was inaugurated on January 20, though</span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">like many, I was terrified something would happen to stop the event. Call it PTSD or situational awareness, but many of us were terrified for the future of America. </span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">And then came the trials. The insurrection we had watched on live TV led by Tr*mp was called into question, and they let him off the hook. If you called in a group of thugs to break into a bank and you encouraged the robbers so that you could have the money, would you not be part of the bank robbery? Would you not be considered the head of the event? Would you not be prosecuted along with them? Now, he calls them hostages; he has a song celebrating Jan 6 because to him they are HIS America.</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">January 6 put a stain on protesting— an American right—and the way we are heard because otherwise our voices are lost in the crowd. Now anyone who protests is seen as a potentially violent insurrectionist so we leave it up to the justice system, yet he has insurrectionists in high places to fight for him. Is a justice system or a guerrilla republic?</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">A few summers ago, a woman at the grocery store became belligerent saying Biden was a fake President and Trump would come back, and if she could be in another insurrection she would. I know this to be true—they deny it was a violent event and say it was antifa, but in a heartbeat they would do it again.</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 28px; font-weight: bold;">Tr*mp has stained America. He cannot come back. He does not deserve to be on the ballot. He does not deserve to be president. People died on Jan 6, but by the grace of God, America remains a democracy and for those who fought and died to preserve our Constitution, we should act in great reverence by protecting and honoring the vote. And we should all vote, no matter the party. Vote like your life depends on it, because it does. Your life and liberty does. </span></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-42776583685297362002023-12-11T17:24:00.000-08:002023-12-11T17:54:02.942-08:00Welcome to Green Valley<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"></p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/sophisticated-woman-talking-to-a-man-inside-an-office-7319478/"><img border="0" data-original-height="5808" data-original-width="3872" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyqM5dDdYPKo8hFoThCqF9AuiazL1Wi1V878pUdj9ZxuUI7EpViSlvE7rZfhzE9xe-dcuEExrD0ShTHuxy3leoC1r4Pbw0otolRlZPnbB6cC3AOUB-InzmZFPcDiTRPZZZkaplJU-yhyphenhyphenRsQwRyEijK4wySyppCreGJcw4YTz1-R-p42gcCVzneVF-DT1c/w266-h400/pexels-cottonbro-studio-7319478.jpg" width="266" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/sophisticated-woman-talking-to-a-man-inside-an-office-7319478/"><br /></a></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Joe
Walker turned the corner and balked at the sight of yet another one, thick as
thieves in his little town. Wearing their best clothes, eyes wide at every
landmark—God, even the laundromat—and always with an air of importance as if
they had every right to be there just because they’d bought a ticket for the
time trip. He wanted to tell every single one of them to screw off, but even
that was against the rules.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">RESPECT
THE TRAVELER. SMILE AT THE TRAVELER. HELP THE TRAVELER.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It
was a crock, no, an <i>investment</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Into
what? The future?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">What
was wrong with <i>his</i> future, anyway? Wasn’t it good enough? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Barging
past—he likened them to illusory objects—Joe felt a sense of relief that he’d
almost knocked one over. Inside the protective bubble it cussed and the man in
a funny looking T-shirt and Bermuda shorts—the uniform of all travelers—exclaimed,
“Hey! You could have popped my pod.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah,
I was hoping to,” Joe said over his shoulder. A shiny, powder blue Chrysler
sped by and nearly ran over his dulled dress shoes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“But
it’s against the rules.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yours
or mine?” He lit up a Lark cigarette, stopping to sneer. “Why don’t you go back
where you came? Don’t you like your time? If it’s so bad, why don’t you fix it?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
man gaped and even Joe knew he’d gone too far—it might even land his ass in the
slammer for a week, or worse, he’d lose his job at the bookstore. Books were
the only thing he was good at, the only thing he could sell because books didn’t need selling. They served a voracious need to learn. His own. The rest
of the world could burn in ignorance, and would, and had many times. Yet books, and
women, were his only salvation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Look,”
he said, motioning to the man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I didn’t
mean what I said. No harm done, right? You won’t report me?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
man had an air of rejection, of needing to be served and his ass kissed. What’d he
want, a goddamn ticker tape parade? The town he’d travelled to was Green
Valley, nothing special. A hobunk, nothing town. Why not L.A., New York, Rome?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Because
Green Valley was the perfect American dream. Or so they said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Just
then, a bird flew by and shit on top of the man’s shiny clear pod. White glossy scum
ran down the sides and blurred his vision. Joe tried not to laugh. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well anyway, welcome to my shitty town!” he called out, before crossing the street. It
was only two minutes before the hour. Behind him, the man cussed and headed to
the nearest safe hotel—the only place the <i>things</i> could stay during their
visit. There, they would get a hermetically sealed room to escape their oxygen
pod for the night; take a shit, a shower, a shave. And eat. Then it was back into
a fresh pod the next morning. He’d like to watch it sometime—these human bugs
shedding their shiny latex skins every night and squeezing back into a clean one
every day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">So
far, the time zones available for travel were 1778, 1898, and 1958. Nothing
else was available because of war. Or maybe they liked 8s. And would there ever
be trips to the future? No one knew . . . but he was content staying right <i>here</i>.
No matter how many came, or what they did or said, this was <i>his</i> place. He’d been born here, and he’d die and have his body embalmed by Martha
Biglaow at the Green Valley Bigalow Family Funeral Home--just like everybody
else. And he’d be damned if the things forced him out. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Though
sometimes he did wonder what the future was like and he desperately wanted to
break the rules to ask. But that was number three on the list of forbidden
interactions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">NO
TRAVELER SHALL BE ASKED ABOUT THEIR TIME!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">A
few blocks down from his job, the Old English Bookseller, Joe almost ran into
another one. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A female. He skidded on his
feet to avoid her plasticine wrapper, and then heard a muffled whimper inside.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I’m
punctured,” the woman said. She was petite, well-dressed in a nice
two-piece suit and she looked about as 1958 as anyone could. She didn’t look
like a traveler, but she did look in distress. Her skin was pale with shock.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Swear
I didn’t bump into you—you okay?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah,
I’m okay. But I have to make it back to the safe hotel before anyone sees.” She
turned and showed him a long, jagged rip likely caused by the sharp pair of
heels she wore.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Ooweee.
Why didn’t you wear soft sneakers like the rest? I thought it was standard.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
wanted to look . . . authentic.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Someone
walked by, a normal, and the woman in the ripped pod twisted so they couldn’t
see the damage or hear the hiss of air flowing out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Would
you cover for me?” she asked him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Me,
aw shit. Not me. I’m late for work. Just over there—” he pointed to the
bookstore.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Please.
I’m scared. I—I only wanted to know what it was like to come here. But I don’t have
two thousand dollars to cover the fine—for breaking the rules.” She hit him
with a pair of brown eyes threatened by tears.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Fines.
Stupid fines . . . <i>Fine</i>,” he said. “I’ll help you but walk fast. I’ll
get you to the corner where the safe hotel is, and you’d better hurry in and to
your room. Come on.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Thanks.
You’re a lifesaver.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
led her down the sidewalk and across the street, mindful in keeping his stride
near the rip in order to hide it. She kept up well, better than expected.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“First
thing, get rid of those heels,” he said once they arrived. The safe hotel
loomed over them with its slick metal and glass. You should have seen the mess
they made erecting it and how much chaos it caused. And now, you’d think it’d
been there from the start. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh,
I will, believe me. It’s kitten heels from now on.” When she smiled at him, he saw that
a few actual tears had come out. He’d always been a sucker for a girl in
distress. But, holy shit, she was a <i>thing</i>, not a girl.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hadn’t
you better get inside?” he asked. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh,
yes. I’d better.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">She
headed for the door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“What
year,” he said to her back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">She
turned around. “You won’t believe it, 2044.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Jesus.
You’re right, I don’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He’d
never asked before. It’d never mattered. 2044 was a million years from 1958 and
an entire galaxy away. The concept boggled
his mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“You
might as well tell me your name as well,” he said,
lighting up again. He didn’t know why he asked. Things didn’t have names. It
was better that way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Peggy,”
she blushed. “My great grandmother’s name. It’s so old fashioned.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
wouldn’t tell her it was the name of his first girlfriend and that there was a
Peggy on every corner. Everyone, it seemed, was a Peggy around here.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well,
see ya, Peggy. Suits you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Thanks.
And thanks for the help.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Better
hurry.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">She
smiled and went in, and he stood for a moment thinking how strange it was to
have had a conversation with someone from 2044, though she looked and sounded
like any person he’d ever met.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Then
he realized how late he was for work and rushed right to the bookstore before a
customer could come by and tell his boss he hadn’t opened the doors yet.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Peggy,
from 2044 . . .” he muttered while unlocking the wood and glass door, then he
repeated it again as he set up shop. “Peggy, from 2044.” Turn on the lights,
open the shades, take out the trash. “Peggy, from the future,” he went on, as
he took a seat behind the front counter and waited. He counted the cash drawer
and slid it in the register.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Then
just, “Peggy.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
clock struck fifteen after nine. The place was empty—he’d been foolish to worry
about customers. Hardly anyone ever came in until ten. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
wondered if he’d ever see her—Peggy—again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Things,
travelers, usually only stayed a week, and most of the time they stuck
together. It was like families going to Coney Island, then going back to their
hometown all spent and sated with milkshakes and poodle skirts and James Dean
movies on their mind. <i>Rebel Without a Cause </i>was all they showed anymore.
If you wanted to see a new movie you had to drive out of town. But see,
travelers didn’t care. It was all new to them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Joe
wondered if Peggy had already used up her week, if she’d seen the movie, had
the milkshake, and he also wondered if she’d come alone. And if so, why?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">A
little brass bell above the door jangled when a <i>thing</i> came in. It was
always a spectacle watching them peruse books without touching or being able to
flip through the first chapter. Almost everything was protected. His boss—Marty—had
set up a nifty stand with a crank. This allowed Joe to put any book in there a <i>thing</i>
asked to read, and then he’d stand there flipping pages each time they said,
“When.” It was laborious and mind killing, but more and more part of his job.
Then, worst of all, the books they wanted had to come in their own hermetically
sealed plasticine that no human—of his kind—had ever touched. It was all pure
and safe, and boring.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Hardly
any normal came in to buy a book. They were too busy watching . . . the <i>things</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">One
of them strolled casually around the store for a few minutes before finding a
book they wanted him to crank. Then they rang the bell attached to the
contraption and he smiled and came over. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“This
one?” he asked with fake congeniality. WAR AND PEACE FOR GOD’S SAKE. “Are you
planning on buying?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
don’t know. I only want to read a few pages. It’s banned in my time, you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh?”
His ears pricked up. What time? “Why is it banned?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
thing’s eyes widened. He couldn’t break the rule.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
know, I know,” Joe said. “You’re not supposed to tell me, and I’m not supposed
to ask.” He leaned in, though they were alone. “I won’t tell anyone, will you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
man smiled, then shook his head. “No, I won’t fib. I’m from 2050. And novels
aren’t allowed anymore, only fact fiction.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Joe
pondered the idea of banned novels. “I can’t imagine. Why would they do that?
And more importantly, why let you come here when they know you’ll read them
anyway?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh,
well that’s just it. I had to sign a waiver not to read any books.” He smiled
faintly. “Another rule broken, but I know you won’t tell. And since I’m
breaking the rules, why not tell you this? They’re planning on closing you down
soon. That’s what I heard. No novels at all. No history, at all.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
brass bell rang and a mother and three children came in—each wrapped in their
own protective pods.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Joe
grabbed <i>War and Peace</i> and stuck it into the crank contraption. “Table of
contents, or go to the first page?” God, he’d do for another smoke. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“First
page, please,” the man said. His eyes were orbs of excitement as he read through
the first lines—all contraband in his time. So, Tolstoy’s passionate telling of
war and love had become illegal history? How could you erase a time that had
been, even fictionalized versions of it? Events and people, war? That was
sacrilege! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">And
now they were coming for his store? How could such a thing be allowed? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Say
<i>when</i>,” he told the man when enough time had passed. “I’ll turn the page
every time you say <i>when</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“When,”
the man said after finishing the last few lines on page one—he moved his mouth
when he read. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Joe
turned the crank and it jostled the book just right so page one turned to page
two and three. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
woman and children left after perusing a few Mother Goose books, and Joe looked
the man square in the eye—plasticine between them and all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Why
would they want to come <i>after me</i>? You can’t erase history, you know.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Look,
I know. It--it’s all the <i>violence</i>. It got worse and worse until everyone
was shooting each other with oozies--in my time. Then came the bombs, and my God,
people began buying tanks and shooting each other in the street. They said they
had to erase all literature that mentioned war, shooting, killing. Hate. I
guess I understand. Ten years ago, a peace treaty was signed and then it’s been
quite nice, to be honest. We call all go outside again.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“But
you can’t erase history,” Joe said.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“When.”
The man shrugged, and a squeaky sound came off his pod. “It’s not me, it’s
them. I prefer the truth—but peace is nice too. Say, you’re not going to break
our agreement and go out and tell everyone, are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“No
. . . of course not. An agreement is an agreement.” The thought had occurred to
him that his boss Marty might want to know. But then Marty would go to the City
Council and blab the whole thing. Which might not be bad because what if it stopped
the <i>things</i> coming around altogether? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
man stepped back. “I don’t like the look in your eye.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Listen,
I said you can trust me, and I meant it. Do you want me to turn to page four or
not?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
guess not. I don’t feel like it anymore.” The man turned and headed for the
door. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">So
that was it? All the trust between them eroded, all because Joe had carried a
suspicious look in his eye? Who was the bad guy here?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
told you, I <i>won’t</i> rat you out . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I’m
leaving!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well,
come back later then. Maybe I can find you a copy of <i>Mein Kampf</i>.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
man practically scurried out the door, but Joe didn’t care. He wouldn’t squeal,
and how dare the man ask? Typical <i>thing</i>. From now on, it was back to
hating them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
went to sit behind the desk, fear burrowing in his stomach for the future—<i>his</i>
future. Because, what would become of him without his job at the bookstore?
Books were all he cared about. He didn’t have a wife, or kids, or even a dog.
All he had was books, and a bungalow out by the railroad tracks, and he loved
it even though it had a leaking roof.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
can’t lose my job,” he said to himself. “But what can I do?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
front door jangled and in walked Peggy. The Peggy. All fresh and new. He’d
never seen a perfect pod before—usually they had a slight yellowness to them
like an eye with a cataract. Wearing a pink sundress and white sneakers, she
came in with a smile and damnitt if she didn’t shine like a diamond.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">But
she’s a <i>thing</i>, he thought. And things are fleeting. Things are trouble.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Can
I help you?” he asked, unable to hide his animosity. “Romance, cooking, cleaning?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">She
laughed. “None of those, thank you. I’m into fashion—do you have any books on
that topic?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
nodded his head toward the back wall. “Do you need a crank?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">She
halted in place. “A what?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“A
crank. Choose the book, and I’ll crank the pages for you. Any book. I’m here
all day.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh
. . . no, don’t trouble yourself. I’ll only look at the covers.” She walked to
the back corner. That’s when he realized once again the pods had feet—little
attached booties that shuffled on the floor with a sickening slug sound. She
was out of sight now and couldn’t see the smirk that came across his face. Slugs.
She was one beautiful slug.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
have all these already,” she called out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“You
do? So they’re not banned in your time?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">She
went quiet. The whole place went quiet. That is, until the sound of her
shuffling feet carried her to the front desk.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Pardon
me, did you say, banned?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Oh,
shit. It’d only been a few minutes and he’d ratted the guy out, already. Shit.
Fuck. Damn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
was only presuming,” Joe said, covering up his sin with a wide, unassuming
smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Peggy
searched his eyes. It was then he realized hers were a sparkling green with
hints of blue. He’d never seen a thing’s eyes that close before, or even taken
the time to look.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
don’t think you were,” she said with a drawl. “I think you know something.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Look,
I--”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s
been my estimation that certain books will be banned in the not-so-distant
future, she said. "Here and everywhere. My fears are confirmed. I know the man who just
left—he told me at the depot that he was from 2050.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Joe
shifted on his feet; she was intuitive. And damn his stupid mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Inside
the pod, Peggy reached up to scratch her neck. “Think I’m allergic,” she said.
“A new pod is the worst.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">She
kept itching, and Joe saw a band of red welts rise on her skin. It reminded him
of the time he’d walked into a patch of poison ivy at summer camp. He’d itched
for days, and even the pink chalky calamine lotion hadn’t been able to quell
the urge. At the time, he’d secretly wondered if it was the fear of being
separated from his mother that really made him itch. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I’ll
be okay in a minute,” she said. “Imagine your whole vacation in a hot, annoying
skin? Like you’re a hotdog or something.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">She
smiled and he smiled back—despite his annoyance. Then when she tried to reach
for a pencil on the desk, he burst out in laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh,
Christ. I forget I can’t reach through,” she said. “I need something for the
middle of my back.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Hesitating,
he retrieved a ruler off the desk and came around to stand beside her. “Turn.
I’ll to scratch it, carefully.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Peggy
shrugged and turned, putting herself into his trust. “I trust you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Joe
slowly pushed the ruler across her back, careful not to puncture. “Is this the
spot?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Higher,”
she said. “To the left. Just a little bit--there! Ah! Yes! Thank you. That’s
it. That’s the spot.” She sighed and then turned around. “You’re a hero.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Fingers
suddenly gripping tightly around the ruler, Joe turned to the desk. “All <i>travelers</i>
are welcome here.” He slapped the ruler down. “In other words, it’s not a big
deal.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
see.” Peggy looked around, “I like your store. It’s nice. Look, it’s well
known that travelers aren’t accepted in Green Valley. In fact, some people
liken us to bugs. Is that how you see us—like bugs . . . like <i>things</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Joe
stammered. He’d never been called out like this. Sometimes he was known for
being caustic, sometimes pushy—but never outright rude. He still followed the
credo of his father—that all women deserved respect and that a real lady was a
gem. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
won’t lie to you, Peggy. Ever since you people started coming here, I’ve been
filled with anger and resentment. You show up and you leave, and at the end of
the day what does it mean to me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. To be honest, it
feels like <i>we</i> are the bugs—like <i>you’re</i> ogling <i>us</i>. All for
a cheap thrill. And all can ask myself is, what’s wrong with your time? Why do
you have to come here to get a cheap thrill?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Scratching
at her neck again, Peggy seemed temporarily lost before speaking. “I’ll tell
you what we come—why I came. It’s lonely in my time. 1958 looked so happy and
carefree. But coming here, I realize every time has a flaw and that no matter
where you go, there’s always something missing. I guess you can’t escape it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“You
used the word lonely,” he said to Peggy. “Is it lonely in 2044?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes,”
she said, lowering her voice. “Yes, it is. No one talks. No one interacts. It’s
a wonder we even . . . procreate.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“That’s
something that’ll never end,” he said. “Thank goodness.” There. He’d made her
smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah,
thank goodness,” she said, laughing. “But in my time, it’s more of an ordeal than
a connection. I’m serious. People do it to have children, but it’s not for
love. And then children are sent to school at age three. The whole thing is . .
. lonely.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
wanted to reach through the plasticine to clasp onto her fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“No,”
she said, as if reading his mind. “It’s against the rules.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Right.
The rules. I wasn’t really going to.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
know.” She craned her neck to get a view of the mother and children. “Well, I
guess I should go now. Thanks for your help. I might be back later to look at
one of those cook books you mentioned.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh,
right. Cooking.” He gave her a look of apology. “Sorry. It was because you’re a
girl and—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s
okay.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">A
middle-aged woman came in—a faded drag of a thing. Joe had a suspicion she would
ask to read the ever-popular poems of E. E. Cummings. Women like her all did.
She gave Peggy a strange look in passing, then another at Joe after Peggy left.
When she came over to ask for the E. E. Cummings, just as he’d suspected, he
reached under the desk for a copy with a weak smile. They loved the erotic
suggestion—Joe figured they felt the poet was speaking just to them. And only
them. Sometimes he read it out loud, with much inflection, so they’d get the
full effect.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Joe
set it up in the crank, then turned pages slowly each time she gave a
breathless, “When.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
thought of Peggy and wondered what the world had done to become such a lonely
place. My God, the look in her eyes. Total desolation. He wanted to save her
somehow but didn’t know a way. There were so many walls and barriers, plastic
and rules and restrictions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">There
had to be a way though.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">That
night, he lay awake in the back bedroom of his bungalow thinking hard about
what he would do if and when they came to take the bookstore away. Move to
another town? Start another life? But how long before they began sending
travelers to that town, and the next and the one after that? There’d be nowhere
to go where books weren’t banned, and he wouldn’t live like a criminal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Stupid
Tolstoy,” he muttered into his hot arm, then slipped his face under the pillow just
in time before another train went roaring by. But really, it was the memory of
Peggy’s face that had made him want to hide. He couldn’t get those goddamned
sorrowful eyes out of his memory.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">To be continued . . .</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span face="PlusJakartaSans, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", Ubuntu, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14px; text-indent: 0px; white-space: pre;">Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/sophisticated-woman-talking-to-a-man-inside-an-office-7319478/</span></span></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-3264823353504457662023-11-13T08:37:00.000-08:002023-11-13T08:37:45.185-08:00Early November photos<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguVrhjGximy6JbcTlNC_0mzKjcZvNRr9FhmrVTfFjWkdASk4ekSGqqicn4yADDNrFhSYiEjtZ35x1mr94khm30vOHJbwQ_LRZVhFZAxqoTuTkHPLLdjWDFe6WYfhDIkBZk7utp8flNIZMOY7OLj8td9OquwnoMuZJWzxm4sNU_ViZQc8VRNrBMsTHsato/s918/F06F1439-113D-497D-9645-ACC332736995.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="918" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguVrhjGximy6JbcTlNC_0mzKjcZvNRr9FhmrVTfFjWkdASk4ekSGqqicn4yADDNrFhSYiEjtZ35x1mr94khm30vOHJbwQ_LRZVhFZAxqoTuTkHPLLdjWDFe6WYfhDIkBZk7utp8flNIZMOY7OLj8td9OquwnoMuZJWzxm4sNU_ViZQc8VRNrBMsTHsato/s320/F06F1439-113D-497D-9645-ACC332736995.jpeg" width="261" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDjQiasEw-VlD2NR2tuL7r781xzI8S92jRJTvSwd8-hhJSpH9h7VXVDUb-8mdElTerEkvDK2qe73EBUcoZkFc7LFTAbBDUTkOC433a_Kt1hKHxD_Dx5gI_eqMvvHoEIcGKujeMsU1XjJTgaBp4xVNQfhT2M39mjhuqCYd6lzkX5c4HgLTWIFT1HpK_KgI/s4032/E5303A34-E43F-465B-A52B-687415AC22C5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdTO6sKI0Hp0od1PnPRBUXrHXQOCzNEY36QGUI9ZWhF_8EkTeIBruOsS72YVbPPiQKM3RBYHw851g7w5jJospjhuqpxZtHm7xTspTNsKZ9eDlZI-W10w9DCzCX8laJ995o8ji1qujNHSNU6GjS_nQqAb1IuJUVbixZ4mFAzpT5IHdltfKlPxfUbXlLOqU/s2048/3ADD6287-2EC3-493B-AC3D-52096B1EA3B4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdTO6sKI0Hp0od1PnPRBUXrHXQOCzNEY36QGUI9ZWhF_8EkTeIBruOsS72YVbPPiQKM3RBYHw851g7w5jJospjhuqpxZtHm7xTspTNsKZ9eDlZI-W10w9DCzCX8laJ995o8ji1qujNHSNU6GjS_nQqAb1IuJUVbixZ4mFAzpT5IHdltfKlPxfUbXlLOqU/s320/3ADD6287-2EC3-493B-AC3D-52096B1EA3B4.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4IomH_tlK_nIcerONO22jaZaJtEXlWuZnCl2VKB_BKXh89i6WIPqUjrset24Rff4lXeUYmGgdLKpHXyBrEph7OksgzbM3M6AGsc30sn18FEHQE2xIl3KC8kHq8YinhwfAkBfjL2F7zl-Sy8x03K1_yHjE9wDwvghmV5CTS77CObNG91J5yHEf_i8h5-4/s1117/0D9B4CB6-970B-468D-8B68-286140F70092.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1117" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4IomH_tlK_nIcerONO22jaZaJtEXlWuZnCl2VKB_BKXh89i6WIPqUjrset24Rff4lXeUYmGgdLKpHXyBrEph7OksgzbM3M6AGsc30sn18FEHQE2xIl3KC8kHq8YinhwfAkBfjL2F7zl-Sy8x03K1_yHjE9wDwvghmV5CTS77CObNG91J5yHEf_i8h5-4/s320/0D9B4CB6-970B-468D-8B68-286140F70092.jpeg" width="215" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-89604162648847899222023-11-11T12:13:00.002-08:002023-11-11T12:14:01.591-08:00His last day <p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCc3jInSt25lpwa1gZBvAXV7FYuhNvx07VYesPnzSgNTHqI_YCD5qggGeWYpqsXMVHz4FYGPhty8ryV7m5aPSs0k-YaZXCgF9UgOQVFAfUGbq5NO9Kl_pJirQQSh8kB2LK9iIho6l5p8Kwx7mr48_ZHBqb2jv_y5xholQ8YoBCAFnoHvg3j0pwZ4I8cGM/s3473/AF308283-572F-4F2A-8084-FB7CD1581523.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3473" data-original-width="2752" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCc3jInSt25lpwa1gZBvAXV7FYuhNvx07VYesPnzSgNTHqI_YCD5qggGeWYpqsXMVHz4FYGPhty8ryV7m5aPSs0k-YaZXCgF9UgOQVFAfUGbq5NO9Kl_pJirQQSh8kB2LK9iIho6l5p8Kwx7mr48_ZHBqb2jv_y5xholQ8YoBCAFnoHvg3j0pwZ4I8cGM/s320/AF308283-572F-4F2A-8084-FB7CD1581523.jpeg" width="254" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p> My wish in doing this was to bring John to life for those of us who love and miss him, which is many. I call myself a psychic/medium painter because not only do I draw from my spirit, but I ask the subject to contribute energetically. This is for sale in print and the original in acrylic. Thank you and remember peace. ✌️🕊️ https://fineartamerica.com/featured/be-bop-a-lula-amy-saia.html?product=art-print </p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-57181227718841661732023-10-29T10:30:00.006-07:002023-10-29T10:40:17.897-07:00 Dear Cuttlefish, Dear Cuttlefish<p> </p><span id="docs-internal-guid-56079373-7fff-f8ff-5e7b-e5674aee086d"><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3YlSiY90vRv8E5u-9t8WzHOpI6r0ZpZabMekfqm_cNWwdKICdulYQwEAJpKUplQPFAmUtnPHKsSjK5MFZfyqywZqCQ-ybp5aGgn1RMKWNcPdqXwGlrSJR21QHq8yCWxRQIk4weI6Fs_iH6oPfwMO1chOM2dK53szMQpgY70y_rhs5JnxVV8kZtgfNas/s1280/bar-209148_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="1280" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3YlSiY90vRv8E5u-9t8WzHOpI6r0ZpZabMekfqm_cNWwdKICdulYQwEAJpKUplQPFAmUtnPHKsSjK5MFZfyqywZqCQ-ybp5aGgn1RMKWNcPdqXwGlrSJR21QHq8yCWxRQIk4weI6Fs_iH6oPfwMO1chOM2dK53szMQpgY70y_rhs5JnxVV8kZtgfNas/w400-h278/bar-209148_1280.jpg" title="Image by Christian_Birkholz from Pixabay" width="400" /></a></div><span face=""Open Sans", system-ui" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #191b26; flex: 1 1 auto; font-size: 14px;"><div style="text-align: center;">Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/christian_birkholz-76800/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=209148" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #191b26;">Christian_Birkholz</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=209148" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #191b26;">Pixabay</a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><br /></span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">D</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">ante approached because he liked her pink hair and the little tattoo of a yellow star. Elegant. He hooked a sneaker into a stool rail and ordered a beer. And then he tapped her on the shoulder, gently, next to the star. But not </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">on </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">the star.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Here with anyone?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She turned to do a sneak-a-peek glance over the shoulder yet didn’t make eye contact. “No.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So you’re alone?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Correct.” Her drink of choice was a Bloody Mary. She tipped her head back and swallowed until an olive came close to her lips, but she didn’t let it slide in. When she put the glass back onto the counter, the olive slowly sunk down into a cloud of tawny red.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m alone too,” he said, more to himself. The bartender, a rail-thin tattoo canvas himself with a scraggly beard and nose piercing, slid a beer across the counter. The bartender’s fingers read, </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Love Sucks, </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">but when Dante rearranged them the letters read, </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Luck </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">and then two </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">s’s </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">and the </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">ove</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">. Dante wished the extra letters made a real word. It probably did, but he was dyslexic and currently brain frazzled. Life would do that. “I like the star,” he said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The girl rubbed a casual hand over it, like it would brush away. “Thanks.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Voses.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Not a word.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hey,” Dante said, planting his ass on the stool, “what’s wrong? You always this way?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Not always. Just tonight.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“How come?” He nudged her thigh with a his knee. “What’d the world do to you?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When she looked at him, he saw that her eyes were green like sea glass. Maybe it was the pink hair in contrast, but at that moment they were the greenest green he’d ever seen. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She sighed. “Have you ever heard about cephalopods?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Uh, maybe.” He’d heard the word but couldn’t recall any details. Cephalopods, cephalopods. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Cuddlle-fish,” she said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Dante pictured two trout hugging each other and then cleared his head.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yeah, no. I don’t remember. Sound friendly though.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The bartender ran a hand through a frizzy beard. </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Sucks.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It sounds like cuddle-fish, but it’s <i>cuttle</i>fish. Common mistake. They live in the Great Barrier Reef off the coast of Australia, and also Indonesia,” she said. “A class of squid.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She waited for him to look excited, but he couldn’t muster it.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Sorry, don’t know anything about them.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“A lot of people don’t,” she said. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Dante took a sip of beer. A long one. Half of it was already gone. He’d just been to his uncle’s wake. And now he was lonely. Lonelier than ever.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Uncle Rev Gone.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">How gone was gone? </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He eyed the chick again and wondered if he had the drive to ask her home. Sometimes he felt so wiped. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">In the hospital, Uncle Rev would tell him he was tired, but not too tired to talk. His face had been bone and yellow, jaundice chicken skin. He’d say, Come sit by my bed, Dante, and we’ll shoot the shit. Needle in his arm and nurses coming and going.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Weeks and weeks of chemo, and he’d see something on TV about a dog getting abused by some asshole, and say, Poor thing.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Evoss.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Dante drained that beer like it was an IV hooked to his mouth.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Tell me more. Tell me about the </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">cuttle</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">fish.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Okay.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He motioned to the bartender.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Another.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“They survive by using chromatic aberration,” she said. “That means they’re electric chameleons.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh really?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Sometimes he felt like a chameleon.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The last three months had been a dry spell. A desert. Uncle Rev. The breakup. Regina hadn’t liked Dante’s new job. Didn’t have the nerve to say she just didn’t like him. Trouble was, she liked someone else. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Maybe this chick would do the same. Did anyone know how to stick to one person? God, all he ever wanted was a commitment that lasted past two years. Was it too much to ask? He’d head down the street to another bar. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">They were all the same, the bars and the women.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was nowhere to go but here.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well anyway, my name’s Dante. What’s yours?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Lola.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Nice to meet you, Lola.” He thought of the Kinks’ song. La, la, la, la. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Lola.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Why do you like these cuttlefish so much?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Because they’re beautiful.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Beautiful, like you . . . Lola?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She didn’t look at him after he said it. And then he wished he hadn’t said it.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Tell me more about them. I really want to know. Honest.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She twisted on the stool. “Okay. The cuttlefish are a direct symbolic representation of everything in our life. Once I found that out, it was as if I knew what God was, or Jesus, or Santa Claus. I just </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">knew</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There were shadows under the sea glass.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Knew what?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That life is short.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">And blue veins showing through pale skin.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She smelled familiar. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">What was it?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">What did she smell like?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Vesos.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well, yeah,” Dante said. “It is for some folks, I guess. Me? I’m going for a hundred.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“They live only two years, tops. That’s not very long.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s better than a fly.” Gone.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“To them it feels like forever.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Another dude walked up and hovered next to Lola on her opposite side. When he whispered something, Dante cleared his throat. “Hey, Lola, can I buy you a drink?” He didn’t like the look of the guy. Scrawny. Strange. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But I haven’t finished this.” She still had the olive.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I know, but it’s almost gone. Last chance before I revoke the offer.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“All right, then. A beer this time.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Dante signaled for the bartender to bring two, yet another one for him and one for her. The other dude got the hint and headed to some other chick. Some chick with normal hair and no star.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So, they don’t live long,” he said. “That’s how nature works. You can’t be sad about that.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But I am. It’s July and July is mating season. They’re all dying now.” Lola rubbed the star and it played peek-a-boo between her long fingers, like an old nickelodeon. He’d seen one once in Seattle. “First, they mate.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, really?” Dante asked. “Tell me about </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">that</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well, you see, the procreation field is composed primarily of the male cuttlefish. When a rare female approaches, the men go crazy, flashing their lights and patterns, all in an act to impress her. If she isn’t impressed, she won’t mate. Typically the largest male wins out. But once the female signals an invitation, there’s trouble.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> “The males go into battle, grabbing onto each other, pulling and twisting until the weaker one gives up. Then, the winner takes his prize, the female, and off they go.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Her fingers came together to demonstrate. “The male wraps his tentacles around the female, forcing her to face him, then he inserts a sperm sack into an opening near her mouth. It doesn’t sound romantic, but it is. Sometimes a smaller male cuttlefish who’s disguised his body to look effeminate will come along, and while the larger male is tricked, the smaller one mates with the female too. It’s done to ensure both large and small specie propagate. I figure the larger male understands, or he wouldn’t allow it to happen.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Lola swished her old drink and stared at the floating olive.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Cephalopods die after procreation. Slowly at first, then at lighting speed. A mere matter of days. The colors fade, the eyes go cloudy. It’s as if all their life force is gone, just because of that one mating session. But it’s the most beautiful thing to them. A moment of completion; of purpose. Without it, their entire existence means nothing.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Their beers were set down and she reluctantly slid the Bloody Mary across the counter to the bartender.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Dante? They do it willingly. The female knows. The male knows too. Like they are psychic. Cephalopods have a very short life cycle and I guess they know it’s their fate to die like that, and they wouldn’t have it any other way. Do you see what I mean that we’re all like the cephalopods? Do you see what I mean, Dante?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Dante slumped on his stool. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So, Lola, thanks for teaching me about the cuttlefish. Now when someone asks me, I’ll know. I have to get going.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Goodbye, pink hair. You’re beautiful but I can’t handle this. I need to be around someone who doesn’t talk about death. Someone who’s </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">here</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The vibrant tresses slid to her back and the little star shifted. It almost appeared to twinkle. “But aren’t you going to ask me to go home with you?” she asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Vosse. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Gee, I don’t know.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He didn’t know.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But what was it that Uncle Rev always said? If luck comes around, don’t ask why.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Because, sometimes luck runs out. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She touched him on the shoulder. “My answer is yes, if you’re asking.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">And it’s not like they had to talk.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Then, I’m asking,” he said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Her hand was as soft as her eyes were green.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Dante paid the bill and led Lola out to his car. A piece of crap Camry. Oil slicks shimmered along the wet pavement. Two Jap cars away, hipsters and college boys hung out and Dante wished they weren’t there. One had a skirt on. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A boy in a skirt. Holy shit.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I like the tattoo,” he said while fishing keys from his front right pocket. “What’s it for?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s from . . . have you ever heard of a gamma ray? One big explosion of radioactive decay and the star fades into nothing.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Sure I’ve heard of it.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The neon sign from the bar flashed and burnt out above them in a big flash. An omen? It was too late to duck if they wanted too–sparks rained down onto their heads. What was it his Uncle said about shooting stars? Make a wish. Make it count. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“The truth is, Dante, we’re all just one big gamma ray. One big explosion.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Saying nothing, Dante held open the passenger side door of his Camry and watched her slide in.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Baby, I’d love to hear all about it, but why don’t you tell me later? Like, a few hours from now.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He’d be a luckier man then. A guy could listen to anything when his luck was up a notch. Shooting stars, gamma ray explosions. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Okay, later,” she said, getting in. “We can talk about it . . . later.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">That’s when he saw the medical tape residue. And the patient id bracelet she’d shoved into her purse. Then he figured out the smell: medical soap. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Dante said nothing. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He just got in with her and drove.</span></p><div><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-79490669135941244712023-10-27T07:52:00.010-07:002023-10-27T07:55:53.280-07:00 Sometimes I Call Her Mother, Sometimes I Call Her Mom<p> </p><p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 18pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBloYb-IVCvmb5lfzzg8_GLe6WJat-ftBTCazL-zYwLsM-lu6vgnQJi4Do3ev5KNdlww09Sk8uKgJM5vUJNL8iYGS1N_LdHHxdYN_iYt6TBBYhG8VjpDZCLYAYFLiOECfVVDa9YuHQzj3ycmOWQjWR7pGMJDXWZ6Myd-VH9WzE3Nop23_L6d5bm8MQ3A8/s1280/necklace-with-winged-heart-2900732_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBloYb-IVCvmb5lfzzg8_GLe6WJat-ftBTCazL-zYwLsM-lu6vgnQJi4Do3ev5KNdlww09Sk8uKgJM5vUJNL8iYGS1N_LdHHxdYN_iYt6TBBYhG8VjpDZCLYAYFLiOECfVVDa9YuHQzj3ycmOWQjWR7pGMJDXWZ6Myd-VH9WzE3Nop23_L6d5bm8MQ3A8/w400-h266/necklace-with-winged-heart-2900732_1280.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Open Sans", system-ui" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #191b26; flex: 1 1 auto; font-size: 14px; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; white-space-collapse: collapse;">Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/maky_orel-436253/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=2900732" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #191b26;">Markéta Klimešová</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=2900732" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #191b26;">Pixabay</a></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 18pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br />Sometimes I Call Her Mother, Sometimes I Call Her Mom</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-78db8bae-7fff-0c36-1ce9-37d1dba4f5c5"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">S</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">he calls me early afternoon after I’ve done the dishes and laundry, and a few hours before I expect the kids home from school, asking if I can go with her to one of those ‘Cash For Gold’ places in town. I don’t want to go, but I haven’t seen her for weeks now. Sometimes seeing her is painful, because I’m not the daughter she raised. My hair is always the wrong color, my outfit too plain. We work better with long absences so that both of us forget. I sit at the kitchen table with the phone pressed to my ear, and take too long with my answer. I’m conjuring a lie, a good one that won’t sound selfish. But I can’t think of any. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Do you need money?” I ask. “I can give you some.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I just want to see how much </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">they’ll </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">give me.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She drives up in her ancient blue Saturn with the funky smell coming out of the vent, and I hop in. I crack open a window. It’s like moldy peanuts. In the next second an object is dropped into my lap. “Look through there and tell me if you think any of it’s worth anything.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It’s the old cedar box with the red, satin lining. Like a mini treasure chest with jumbles of gold strands; the opal ring that my sister stole and then returned; the amber stones that were too big to wear, but I used to stand in front of Mom’s dresser with them draped across my neck. </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The Count gave those to me. The Count of so and so from Cairo. </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I smell incense and oil, like walking into church on a spring day. My brain does a Pavlov and sends the cold touch of holy water to my fingertips. </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">All the earrings are clip-on. Big. Gaudy. But I remember her wearing them, and the dresses she wore them with, and her red hair cropped clean so they always showed underneath. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What do you think?” She’s pulled into the parking lot at the yellow and black adorned stand that used to be a photo hut. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I feel sad. Her charm bracelet, the one with a little figurine from every country and state she traveled to as a flight attendant, sits in my palm. I always wanted her to give it to me, but to do so she would have to trust me, or die. I longed for one, but not the other. I could wait. I could always wait, forever, forever. And if I couldn't have it, my daughter could. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“These people are sharks, Mom.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I know.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We go inside. A woman sits at a desk with a half-sewn dress next to her. Maybe her daughter’s prom is coming up. I expected a buff dude with knuckle hair and hidden tattoos. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We sit. She sorts. She pulls and looks, prods with a long stick with a magnet at the tip. The magnet finds metal in everything, even the coins in their triangle leather pouch. More Cairo. Those go on the left. A little pile forms to her right of little things like one thin gold chain and one ring and one coin. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When she picks up the charm bracelet I shift in my seat. The stick moves over the Statue of Liberty figurine with its tiny spy hole of the New York skyline. Then it moves to the Eiffel Tower. My breath holds. The hula dancer with swiveling hips. She drops it to the left. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The wand is laid to rest and the woman slides the unwanted items across the desk. “Eighty-nine dollars for these three over here.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mother is disappointed. “Oh, I thought it’d all be worth more.” She’s thinking of her life. All sorted and picked out. So am I. “But still, eighty-nine dollars isn’t bad.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A check is written, identification is shown. We leave.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Sharks,” she says in the car. </span></p><div><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-87063698603681876972023-10-17T08:27:00.003-07:002023-10-17T08:27:26.745-07:00Into the Badlands<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOwg87PPnJeESTDBPpitJGKCW7Pthg86_sF3V58lcrdyc0vInIxtYkjHHUnl05jLZm4oX1CgZCTkvyGciFU7wgND4g85vgdOMvOKrUrq77VcDks2B7TZNjfeSxDxAOWWzB1ThaIZc6yiD6FbZomLZd665en3NnkhnRBP2tlFAxJEBvbqGEk_KdBu-1H4/s1280/motorhome-1206525_1280%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijOwg87PPnJeESTDBPpitJGKCW7Pthg86_sF3V58lcrdyc0vInIxtYkjHHUnl05jLZm4oX1CgZCTkvyGciFU7wgND4g85vgdOMvOKrUrq77VcDks2B7TZNjfeSxDxAOWWzB1ThaIZc6yiD6FbZomLZd665en3NnkhnRBP2tlFAxJEBvbqGEk_KdBu-1H4/w400-h266/motorhome-1206525_1280%20(1).jpg" title="Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/memorycatcher-168384/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=1206525">Siggy Nowak</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=1206525">Pixabay</a>" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Cimarron Man</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-d4401a73-7fff-00ec-836d-7ee174638f61"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">S</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">he had a long prairie face and was silent as a meadow when she came to stand near the Cimarron. He was inside lighting a cigarette and saw her before she rapped on the passenger window of his truck. He let a few seconds pass before leaning across to roll it down. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Yeah?" He knew her. She was the skinny gal that lived just down the road. Someone's daughter, he was pretty sure. Pretty girl, but strange with silence. Always sitting on her front porch with a stare as he passed, going to the store or whatever else in town. Once he had waved and she had lifted a delicate hand. But it hadn't really been a wave, more like a flutter of movement, so he couldn't say if he'd been acknowledged or not, or if she acknowledged anything at all with those eyes that held no accountable reflection of the world. He'd wondered about it, many times, what was happening at the house just down the road. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Something wrong?" he asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She strained to speak, like there wasn't enough air inside of her to make the sound. "May I come in?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I'm about to leave. I'm all packed up."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Please, let me in," she said, louder. She bent to meet his eyes. "Please."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"What for?" He puffed on his cigarette a few more times, then flicked it out the window. He opened the door for her. "What do you want? You got trouble?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After she'd gotten inside, he saw the bag she was carrying—not a purse. It had clothing in it. Life items. Items to live by, to travel with. "Oh now, shit, I'm not taking any hitchhikers. Rule one. You gotta understand that right away. What's that father going to think when we go driving by your house? Well, he'll think we got something going. Might even call the cops. You gotta figure out a way to work out these problems without involving me. No, no way—no hitchhikers. Sorry."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She pulled the seatbelt across her lap and secured it. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He started the truck. "I'll just drop you off at home." </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She tensed and began to plead with him. When they neared her house, he saw that her father was on the front porch—a creature of muscle and anger. "All right, I'll take you to the next town" he said, driving on. "The next town, and that's it."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Thank you." Her hands slid, releasing their clench on his forearm.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">At the next town, she was asleep. Something about the truck's movement, or the friendly rattle of the Cimarron, gave her comfort. He could see that. He'd kept wounded animals as a child, and each of them had slept after they'd been saved and fixed. She was just like one of those animals, hibernating it all away. At a stoplight, he reached over to touch her on the cheek.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He never could refuse helping something that was hurt. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">S</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">he was still out when he stopped to get gas. He watched her through the window as she curled against the seat of his truck, hair in sweaty threads against her face. With nozzle in hand, shooting precious fuel into a tank that ate too much for its own damn good, he kept looking and saw the spread of greenish purple bruises under the neck of her top. He figured she must be bruised all over. The son-of-a-bitch had beaten her where no one else could see. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He paid and hesitated near the glass donut case inside the gas station near the front counter. Usually he kept his food expenses on the practical side, eating only when he was past starving. Light things like nuts and jerky. But she was so damn skinny. He picked out a pink cake donut with sprinkles and a fried one that was jelly-filled. Then he bought them both some coffee. She was awake and had a handful of change ready when he got in the truck.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Put it away," he said, placing her Styrofoam cup on the dash, then her donuts, wrapped in a paper napkin. "I bought this of my own will. By the way, is that all you got? I might make you pitch in for gas later." </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">If you're still riding.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She put the coins into a small purse that she'd pulled out of her bag and then picked up her coffee. She blew on it with one hand cupped over the steam. "I have a lot more. About a hundred dollars."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"That's not a lot. Gas'll eat that up in a day. By the way, where do you want me to drop you? Any place in particular? I mean, did you think this thing out at all?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I saw you packing up and knew it might be my last chance. Last time I watched you leave, I wondered if you'd ever come back. I been watching you a lot."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He drank his coffee and smoked a cigarette, thinking the whole time about her watching him. What a peculiar thing for a girl her age. He wasn't much to look at. Mostly he was just gone, driving all over the place. He'd driven through the southern states. Spent a good amount of time in Louisiana. People down there were more open with themselves, but in the upper States folks seemed like lost buffalo, moving slowly around each other with nothing to say and hardly even a smile. If she had escaped with him that time, he would have missed out on a lot of fun with robust-talking people. Not to mention making love with three women—each at different times, of course. They'd all forgotten him now. Anyway, he wasn't headed that way this time, he was headed through the Midwest for a book he'd been commissioned to photograph. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"The cops might be after us. You prepared for that? They'll find you and take you back home."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She sniffed the donut, thought forever, took a sip of coffee, and then finally answered through her teeth, "I will </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">never</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">go back home."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"But you'd have to work things out eventually. Cops or not. I'm just trying to help you see the truth in all this. You can't ever really run away."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Well I am." She began to scratch at her skin. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Yeah." He started the truck. "Yeah, I know how you feel."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">T</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">hey were nearing the Badlands when he pulled over to take a roll of pictures. He wanted to get a good vista shot of the whole thing before it became swallowed by scenery. Sometimes, when you were in the middle of a spectacular view, you lost perspective on what was so great about it all. As a photographer, he'd learned to isolate scenes or objects, to draw them out of their surroundings. For now, he wanted to get a nice before shot. Later, he'd get the after. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">That's when he had the idea to take a few pictures of her. Before. Before what, he didn't know. Maybe before all the bruises faded. Maybe before she started smiling again. Maybe before she left him at the next stop. If she did, he'd never get an after. But at least he'd have the before.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Stand over there," he told her, pointing to the roadside. She was leaning against the truck's front fender with her hair blowing around in wisps. Her back was a long curve and her arms hung straight down, hands clutched together between her thighs. "Oh, wait, don't move. I think," he climbed onto the roof of the truck and knelt down, camera in hand, "I can maneuver enough to get the horizon and you at the same time. Tilt your chin up a bit." She did, and the wind blew her top apart so that all her bruises met light. "Oh, now... I don't know... can you move your hair down to cover it?" He didn't say bruises, but she knew what he meant. She slid her hair across her shoulders and tried to pat it down to make a cover. Then she looked up with the brightest, bluest eyes. They were bluer than the sky. More vast, more translucent, more distant, more filled with clouds, and rain. Sad. Tired. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Thank you." He lowered the camera. "Do you mind hanging around while I get some other shots? I won't be a second."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Sure."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He had started over the metal railing with a sign that said "Do Not Enter" when the thought came in his head that she might try to steal the truck and camper, so he ran back to grab the keys. Their eyes met. "Just taking precautions. Though I wouldn't blame you if you did. Be right back."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">On a large rock just a few feet below the roadside, he set a leg up for a makeshift tripod. He was careful not to waste any film, and chose a good angle of flat land and buffalo. Distant rocks cut out like shark's teeth. Then came the black hills, fading into a sky that was partially spotted with clouds. The white shapes made shadows that rolled and raced. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The wind had dissonant whispers, like moans. But he knew it only got worse the deeper you drove into the Badlands. At night, those whispers could get so bad a person really got to thinking dead spirits were after them. You had to have a good, strong mind to survive nights like that. He usually kept a radio on to drone it out. Tonight, he'd be camping with someone who looked as haunted as the wind. He hoped she could make it through. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He noted none of the clouds looked storm-like, took a few more shots, and ascended to the road. His runaway was still there. Having made herself comfortable sitting in the truck again, she said nothing when he slid into the driver's seat and packed his camera away. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"We're heading out to a campsite near Custer State Park. You see those hills? It can get to be real rough out there, the deeper you get in. You want me to take you back to Rapid City and drop you off? Or do you want to keep driving with me?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Keep driving. The further I go, the better I'll feel."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He hesitated before starting up the truck. "What's your name?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Virginia."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Well, my name's Jack. Just plain old Jack."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He backed into the road and then drove until they met a line of traffic headed for the highway, early afternoon folks trying to get somewhere before the day got too hot. His stomach began to grumble. The coffee had done nothing to fill his need for something with actual nutrients in it. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel; it wouldn't be the first time he went without. Until she showed signs of being hungry, he'd just ignore the discomfort.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He tried to make light conversation. "You still in school?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She put a string of hair against her lips and feathered it across her teeth. "I was."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"What grade?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She shrugged.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You graduate?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She shrugged again.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You older than sixteen at least?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This time she nodded. It seemed like an improvement of sorts.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Why don't you just move out and get your own place in town then?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I am moving out. With you."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He couldn't help it anymore. He had to eat. "Can you reach back there behind your seat and fetch me some bread and a jar of peanut butter? It's just right there, in a sack. Get me a knife too. I can't spread the stuff with my fingers."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She leaned way over the car divider and handed all the things he asked for. Her shirt rose above her waist and revealed too much skin in all directions. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Did you find it yet?" he asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Not yet," she said, still digging. Finally she settled back into her seat and dumped everything into her lap. She'd even found a napkin. He didn't know he had one back there. It had the logo of some fast food joint on it.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I'll make it for you," she said, angling her arms to open the jar of peanut butter. She managed to make a nice sandwich right there in the passenger seat. When she handed it to him, he thanked her, but not too much. Anybody could make a sandwich. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You want some?" he asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She shook her head. They were back to that again.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Well, I'm sorry I don't have anything but this right now. Told you not to come with me." He wiped his beard and felt a sprinkle of crumbs tumble onto his thin flannel shirt. "Jesus." He was like a raccoon that way. No scraps. No manners.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He saw his exit and took it.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I got more food in my camper," he went on. "So if you wait till we camp, there might be something for you to eat that you'll like. What do you like?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Avocados," she said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You kidding?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Avocados and limes and papayas and coconuts." </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Well, I ain't got none of those. You like normal stuff?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"What's normal?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Like, soup, and more soup. It's not much."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">They passed through a road that was held in by an arch of pines. It was a narrow road and a few times he had to maneuver to the side for other campers to get by. He was getting stressed about it when he finally heard her say, "Normal stuff is okay. I'll eat anything."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">All the cars on the road came to a stop. A group of buffalo had decided to cross—all looking like great hairy ticks, heads hanging from their slumped necks. "That's your American buffalo," he told her. One came up to her window and sniffed with a snotted snout. Its eyes were dark and devil-like. She didn't pull away though. She appeared fascinated with the thing, and was going to reach out a hand to touch it.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I wouldn't do that. It'll bite off all them pretty fingers. Keep your hand inside the window if you're smart." She ignored his order, and hesitated, hand outstretched for a moment longer. Then she must have decided she liked her fingers, because she retracted her arm and rolled the window up, right in front of the buffalo's face. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"They're called a herd, when it's buffalo. Gang, when it's bison." He was telling her information she'd never need to know. "But they're both the same thing." Pretty soon he ran out of facts to spew. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He grabbed his camera bag and pulled it to his lap. "Watch the truck." He got out and started taking pictures. Herds of buffalo weren't anything new to him, but to the average U.S. citizen it was exotic stuff. They were dumb creatures, mostly, but full of vigor, and irrational vigor too. They could up and charge you, bite at you, for no distinct reason. It would be best to take pictures from the hood of the truck, instead of standing in the road like a human target.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He contorted around, moved from a standing position to a sitting position; his ass pressed up against the windshield—it didn't matter if the pictures came out right. Pretty soon people were taking pictures of him from inside of their cars. Of him taking pictures of the buffalo. He figured it made a sight.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When he got back in the truck he looked over at her and saw the bruises again. They were darker now in the evening sunlight and the tree shade. They looked like hands, like fingers, reaching up to her throat. He felt a suffocation go through him, and tried to put his mind back on the road. The buffalo had moved on and traffic started again. There were too many drivers. That was what he started thinking. Why in hell was everyone trying to make, or trying to leave, camp so late in the day? Because he was on the road, that's why. He was unlucky with anything paved. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He avoided looking at her neck after that. He'd ignore it for the rest of the trip.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">T</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">hey swerved and swerved. His runaway held onto her seat with skinny fingers while the camper made its way through to a tangle of outlet roads that led to their campsite. When he pulled up to the spot he wanted, a mess of anxiety hit him. He had a girl. He couldn't make camp with a girl. Was he crazy? But now it was too late to leave, and it was likely she'd say no anyway. But where would he put her? In the Cimarron? In his bed?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">His hands sweated on the wheel. "Well, I guess I didn't think this whole thing through. I only have one bed."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She looked out her window. Dusk came through the trees and made her skin glow orange in blotted patterns.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He lit up a cigarette and thought for a long while before going out to set things up. "I guess," he said, "I'll be sleeping here in the front seat." She didn't say anything, so he knew he'd settled the issue for himself and by himself. He left the cab of the truck.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Damn it all to hell." He set to hooking up the spigot so they'd have running water and a toilet. He set up everything that made his Cimarron more like a home than a trailer. His runaway never left the truck. Several passes by the front windows showed her in there smoking a few of his cigarettes and looking bored.’</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She was damn pretty. It scared him. He wasn't interested, not in someone that young, but having her in his trust was a responsibility—one he'd never put upon himself. He had to make the best of it. Put on a show or something, with his face, or the way he spoke. He'd brush it off, keep her at a distance—but a safe distance, and just go about with his usual routine. Tomorrow he'd find a way to get rid of her. There was a bus stop in Sturgis. He'd drop her off there with some money and a—</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Take care of yourself, kid.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Another camper pulled up, taking a spot next to theirs. A silver bullet RV pulled by a rusted Chevy pickup. Out came a familiar face, and the mouth too.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Jack! Jack Rivers, You ain't really here in the same campsite as me, is ya? Thought you'd gone south. Didn't you say you hated the cold? What's up? What's up, Jack Rivers?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack was still attempting to hook the water and this new arrival was beating on his shoulder with every word. The threads of the connections kept breaking loose.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Been commissioned down here. I won't be doing much visiting," Jack said. Best to get that out straight. Sometimes people latched onto you. They changed their plans and followed you everywhere and ate all your food, invaded all your thoughts, thrived off the vapors of your existence. They didn't have homes; they had roads. And roads were like feeding tubes to them. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Commissioned for what?" </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Photos."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Of the Badlands?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Of anything I want. I chose the Badlands."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Why?" Victor Sheldon asked, tugging on a pair of Levi's that didn't agree with a midsection that was all bloat and no hips or ass.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I don't know why." </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He did know why. And Victor Sheldon should know why too.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Well," Victor said, looking back to his silver bullet. "I'm getting around to all the usual places. Then I'm headed for Wyoming."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"That's good, Victor."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"How long you staying?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Not long."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I got enough food and beer."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Sign at the entrance said no more beer in this campsite. Against the law."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Victor went red for a second. He mumbled out, "I oughta set this place on fire." Victor was angry like that sometimes. Then he went back to normal and you thought maybe you'd been hearing things. That it was you who was crazy after all.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I'm leaving in the morning," Jack said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"What for?" Victor pulled a bag of chew from his back pocket and pinched out a good wad. He stuck it inside his cheek and spit a few times. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A grasshopper wearing Levi's, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack thought. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"What for?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack didn't answer. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The threads still wouldn't connect. Someone had ruined them with a forced connection, and it felt like duct tape too, because sticky residue coated Jack's fingers when he gave up. "Spigot's fucked," he said. "I'll have to move."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Shame."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Victor's eyes wandered to the cab of the truck where smoke filtered out. "You got company?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"None that needs announcing." Jack erased all the prep work he'd done with the Cimarron and hopped into the truck. He started the engine. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Why you leaving in the morning?" Victor repeated. He leaned into the driver's side window and eyed the runaway. "Who you got there?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"None of your goddamn business."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">They found another spot a few spaces away. Other campers came to fill the difference.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The sun set. The chill arrived. And the voices of the Badlands were preeminent.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">nother familiar soul had rolled into camp, though Jack missed the event while setting up. Moe Simmons had a baby face and a baby voice, but he ruined it all with his vasectomy talk. It was an hourly topic with him. A conversation starter and extender. Everyone across America knew about Moe Simmons's vasectomy. But he didn't tell people that he didn't like. Some folks, the lucky ones, found themselves cold shouldered. They went about their ways never knowing how blessed they were. Jack wasn't one of them.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Moe came by right around dinner, after the girl had settled into the camper with magazines and a battery-operated radio. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"It hurts sometimes," he said. "Sometimes I feel the phantom of my abilities, like one of them amputees that still feels his missing leg. Isn't that funny? It hurts before it rains. Better get out your umbrellas tonight, buddy."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You really think it will?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Big storm, maybe. I don't know. How long you staying?" Moe's eyes kept darting around. He was looking for the runaway. He'd been informed. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Until tomorrow. I got business. But I'll be back to take pictures. Different camp probably."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I got business too. Someone in the ring has a secret opportunity with moola written all over it. You want in?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It wasn't that much of a secret—not to Jack. He'd been approached more than a few times, and always said no. He'd rather stick to his photography and leave the dangerous job of cooking up meth to people like Moe who didn't give a shit about danger or laws or anything. One day, one of the rigs was going to explode on the highway and the whole "business" would be exposed to the entire world. Meth labs on wheels. What was the world coming to?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Thanks anyway," Jack said. "You want some coffee, Moe?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Sure, I will."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Moe picked up Jack's aluminum percolator and poured himself a mug full. He'd brought his own mug of course. He liked to taste everyone's coffee in camp. Moe was a java connoisseur. Jack's was plain old Folgers, so Moe took one sip and dumped it near the fire.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Finally, he got to it. His voice was under the tones of eavesdropping volume. "So, you got a girl with you?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Coffee sour?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"It was—uh—not to my taste. My taste changes. It ain't your Folgers' fault." Dart, dart. "Where'd you get her?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I didn't get her. She got me."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"How'd you do it?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I didn't. She's hitching. And then she's leaving."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"What for?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"'Cause she's got trouble."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Can I meet her?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Why would you want to meet her?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I don't know."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack lit up a cigarette and poured himself his own cup of Folgers. He didn't like fancy stuff, so it was fine by his standards. His taste never changed. It remained faithful to his mouth and stomach.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"How old is she?" Moe asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"She's leaving in the morning, that's how old." Jack changed the conversation by going inside the Cimarron and shutting the door.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">S</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">he lounged against the flat cushions that made up a couch, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Field & Stream</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">in her hands. The little radio he'd given her played rock music near her hips, almost quiet enough to not even be on. She dropped the magazine and reached down to turn it off when he came in.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She watched him move around the camper, head low because he was too tall. Watched every move he made. Watched him reach into a box full of canned goods. Watched him decide. Watched him pull out a can of chunky potato soup. Watched him grab a saucepan, and two spoons, and two bowls.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She said, "Am I really leaving in the morning?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He looked at the open window near the couch and cursed himself for not closing it earlier. "It's the best plan."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"For you?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Could be. But it's probably even better for you, if you think about it."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She threw the </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Field & Stream</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">across the Cimarron. It passed by his right ear and hit the door behind him.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Why'd you do that?" he asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Just take me home. I'd rather go home than be dropped off at some bus station."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You know that's a stupid idea."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I don't care." She began to cry, slumping down into the couch. The cushions weren't attached, so they scattered and fell as she slumped. All that remained was a polished wooden slab.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Why the hell would you want to be with me?" he asked, then couldn't believe he'd had the nerve. She'd never said she wanted to be with him. Maybe she was scared of being alone. It didn't have anything to do with him yet.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She was still crying and wouldn't answer, so he moved aside the soup and things and went out the door. He bent to grab the magazine. It'd become fire kindling by bad circumstance.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The sounds of the camp battled the sounds of the Badlands. Jack heard radios and laughter; children playing; women chatting—but mostly he heard the men of the camp, because their deep voices carried better to his ears. He heard them talking about his runaway. All the why's and what-for's and who she was and would she ever come out. Jack stirred the soup and smoked. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Finally she did come out, so quiet you'd think she was a daydream. The camp died into a mid-hurricane silence. She'd slipped one of his shirts over her flimsy top and tied it at the waist. She'd even combed her hair. She was young and she was beautiful, and he was frightened when she came to sit next to him by the fire.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I'm sorry I threw that magazine at you," she said, reaching her hand out for a drag of cigarette.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I'm over it." He passed the half-sucked Marlboro and watched as she pulled it to her lips. That was all he could watch, he decided. He didn't ask for the cigarette back.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He almost jumped off the log they shared when her arm slid into his. She pulled close and even rested her cheek against his shoulder. "Is this okay?" she asked. "It's cold out here."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack took a look around, without moving his head. From left to right he scanned the camp; there were many eyes staring back. Some that knew. Some that remembered. Some that would never know. But the ones that did know, would always know.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I can get you a jacket," he said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I don't need one. You're plenty warm."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">T</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">he mothers allowed her into their tents and RVs because she was good with children, and it gave them a moment to sit by the fire with their men. But they did look worried, and they all kept one eye on her.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack saw how the children flocked to her. How they clung to her legs and played with her long hair. It should have made him happy, but he couldn't stop a restless worry. He smoked and smoked, watching her flit around the camp; it wasn't long before he accepted one of Victor's illegal beers.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Moe told them jokes. He told political jokes, blonde jokes; he waited for the children to go off a distance before unleashing the dirty ones. Jack wondered how someone could know that many, and it always bothered him to hear a baby voice shooting out so much sex and smut, with those two lips sputtering and spitting such self-effacing laughter.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"What does the rooster who's married to two hens say every day when he wakes up in the morning? Cock-</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I do, I do!</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A log shifted in the fire.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Victor crushed an empty Coors and threw it into the flames. "That joke's about as funny as your dick is long."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">You could joke about anything but Moe's dick.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You tell a joke then, asshole."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Victor's mouth was already getting dry. He shoved a pile of lop inside and muttered that he didn't know any good ones. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Well, then leave it to me, 'cause I got plenty."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"That's the problem. You got too many, and they're all stupid. Why don't you just shut up sometimes and let people think?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Moe looked around. "Do any of you guys want to think? We think all day on the road—right?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Some nodded. Then the fire drew their eyes inward and they all went quiet. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She passed by the trees, hair flowing behind her. She was a sprite, an angel. There was nothing real about her but the sound of sticks crackling under her feet. The children followed close, whispers and laughter. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Moe nudged Jack in the arm. "Can I have her?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Can you have who?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I'm getting lonely on the road, but I could never settle down. There ain't no place </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">right</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">for me to settle down. But I'm lonely, Jack. I'm real lonely."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack sputtered. "Go get yourself a puppy."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"She must've come here for me—since you don't want her."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Who said I didn't want her?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Said you were dropping her off in the morning. Why not drop her off with me? I'll be good." Moe's trout lips trembled. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack sipped the rest of his beer even though the fizz had long ago dissipated. "It ain't that easy. She's got her own mind. I can't pass off another human being without getting their consent first. Anyhow, seems like maybe she wants to stay with me."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Give me a moment to ask her, maybe she'll change her mind."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Go ahead then, she's out there. Nothing says you can't ask."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Thanks, Jack."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Moe struggled from his cheap lawn chair and headed for a tent—that's where the runaway and all her followers had gone. Jack watched their shadows merge within the silken fabric that swayed like a ghost's skin. The beer was empty; nothing but silt now inside the can. He tossed it into the fire. Victor met his eyes.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Victor remembered. All the way back to when Jack first bought the Cimarron. Right after the war, when their minds hadn't set right. When all they knew how to do was run. Back so long ago some of these trees were sprouts, not towering enigmas. He remembered a young girl named Violet, and how she and Jack were on the start of something new. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack had brought her here, to the Badlands, because he'd held a romantic idea about the rocks and landscape. About those haunted echoes. And here they'd cemented their new marriage the same way everyone else did, only he'd forced himself too much and scared her. He was young back then, but she was even younger. Too young.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She'd screamed, but he went on and finished. Because that's what his father had told him to do. Just finish, and think later. They get over it. It's life.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He never could make up for that night. She cried every time, and soon he stopped. You never could get over your past sins. Not with one person. You had to find new people, all the time, so that your sins and their sins equaled out and all the past became forgotten.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Every camp they went to she pulled more and more away so that, before long, she was so distant he couldn't look her in the eye. A new man came along; one with his own sins, and a silver-bullet RV fitted to his truck. She took to him, because he was headed north, and Jack wanted to go south. Jack always thought it was funny how direction could make decisions for you. Life decisions.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He'd put up a stand, said she couldn't go. He'd grabbed her by the arm and thrown her in the Cimarron—all seventeen years old and 113 pounds. But then the engine wouldn't start. He tried everything, but the goddamned rig wouldn't start. Soon she was laughing at him, right there in the front seat. He screamed horrible things and was going to slap her, but she slipped out of the truck and ran to her new man. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack sometimes wondered if the engine dying was a grace from God so that he could start over and heal, or if it was a punishment from God so that he'd never forget. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">So then, all he had was a Cimarron and no wife. And he always felt guilty for not stopping that first night. But it was too late. His sin was old and permanent.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She died a few years later in a car accident. Life had settled the issue in its own way. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Victor shifted on his log and reached for another beer. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Moe emerged from the tent with lips tucked together in dissatisfaction. He wandered into the trees to take a leak before coming back to the fire.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"She say no?" Jack asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"She wouldn't even speak to me."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Wise girl."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Not too wise if she's with you."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"All the same."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Ah, shut up, asshole."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Evening." Jack got to his feet and left the fire.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">H</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">e set up the bed the same way he'd do for himself, only he took extra care to fit the sheets right so things wouldn't slip off in the middle of the night. Maybe she was a restless sleeper, tossing and turning all over the place. He was a still sleeper. But that was because he didn't sleep. Not much, at least.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Then he sat on the couch and waited for her to come in from running around. He wouldn't ask about Moe. She could tell him, but he wouldn't fish information out of her. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When she came in, around nine, she had a funny look on her face, but tried to hide it by keeping her hair all around her face. She sat down next to him on the couch. It was so quiet in the Cimarron you could hear the wheels groaning with her movement, though each step was light and careful.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She smelled like fire and the decomposition of leaves. "See what I got?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He looked down, and saw something fuzzy crawl from the neck of her top. "What is that?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"They gave it to me—that lady in the red tent. Her cat had kittens and she's itching to get rid of them."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"But you can't keep a kitten."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Why not?" she asked, reaching in and scooping it out. She held it to her cheek. It was as black as an eclipse and its eyes were sealed shut.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Did she say when the mom give birth?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Just the other day."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Then it ain't even close to being weaned. You'll have to take it back."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I can't," she said. "I promised." The kitten began to fuss. It needed milk. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You'll have to break your promise," he said. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She stuffed the thing back inside her top. Then she sat on the cushions and stretched out her legs.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"It needs its mother. And you're getting on a bus tomorrow. They'll never let you on a bus with a kitten. Is that why you did it?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She got up, left the camper, and returned later with empty hands—and shirt. Then she sat on the floor and stared at him for the longest time. Each window held its own darkness. His eyes flitted to each one, and then back to her. He stroked his beard and cleared his throat.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"That was the right thing to do," he said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I must be growing up."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Are you?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I don't know. You tell me."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Then there was silence. And that's when you could hear the Badlands crying. "Can I have a cigarette?" she asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He pulled the pack from his shirt pocket and tossed it to her. The matchbook too. "I'll help you out tomorrow. Give you some money."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Thanks." </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She sucked and puffed in a rhythm, hand held close to her mouth.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Are you nervous?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"No," she said. Her hair was loose strands shining all around her oval face. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I made up the bed for you."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She glanced over her shoulder to see, then she was looking at him again and he felt his mouth parch.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"What's that sound?" she asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"It's just the wind, honey."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I ain't never heard wind like that."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"That's all it is though—wind."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"It makes me feel weird."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You get used to it."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She puffed her cigarette until it was done, then came to the couch and decimated the butt in a nearby ashtray of amber glass. She sat close, so close he could feel her body trembling.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He wanted to ask her if she was scared again. He wanted to ask her about Moe's questions. All he could do, though, was sit there and act ignorant. He turned to his runaway and looked into her eyes. "Don't fool yourself about me. I don't have anything special."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She gave him a quick peck on the lips. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I'm fifty years old."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She kissed him again.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You don't know what you want."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Take my father from my skin," she whispered. "I can still feel him." She began to itch and itch until blood spotted out. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"No one can ever do that. Not me, especially." He winced at the way she ripped at herself.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"But you can. I know you can. You're the only one."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I'm not."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Something was about to break in her. A fountain of pain held up too long. She undid every button on her shirt and brought his trembling hand to her skin. Then she bent forward and kissed him all over the top of his chest and neck; she took his lips and made his breath hers.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Please, please," she said, falling back and pulling him onto the couch. "Please take my father from my skin."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"But I can't, honey." He wanted to cry for her.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Oh, please. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Please.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Maybe he could, if it were possible to erase things already seen. Here, there. Her and everyone else. Maybe he could, but he couldn't. Her father was everywhere. Every pore and follicle. Bruises, cuts. It looked like a map. A negative image against her stomach and chest.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Still, she kissed him and he was falling into the invisible perimeter where bad reasoning made sense. Violet never let him touch her like this. It'd always been a struggle to evoke any kind of abandonment in her. Things like that ruined a man. They'd driven him into a canyon with no direction out.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Eventually it happened: Virginia became Violet. She came and went within the runaway's body, blurring lines, possessing him, becoming her. He believed every second of it.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Until he opened his eyes. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He saw all that damage, thrust away, and ran out the Cimarron door to vomit in the grass. Inside: wretched cries louder than the wind.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A figure transpired from the shadows. "What was going on in there?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Nothing, Victor. Everything's fine."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You sure?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack wiped his mouth. "Go back to your camper."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Victor ran a hand all along the Cimarron's ribcage and drew a heavy sigh. "You've been driving this thing a few decades now."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Yeah, and?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"And I thought you'd give it up much sooner. What makes you keep driving? What is it, Jack old buddy?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Same thing as you."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"The same, but not the same."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Almost the same."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"But different."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack reached for the door handle to go back in. He'd comfort her. Tell her everything in the world to make things better, and then he'd send her to bed. Afterward, he'd sit by himself for a while and think things through until they made sense again.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Have I ever apologized for taking her away, Jack?" Victor said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The door handle was loose. Too many years of being grabbed in haste. Everything, it seemed, done in haste.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You don't have to say anything more," Jack said. "I'd prefer it."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"But we ain't never settled this. I can tell you, it's damn near killed me every day since it happened. All I know was she kept begging me to take her, and pretty soon the begging made sense. I didn't want to do it."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Of course you didn't." </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"But I've always felt sorry."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack's fingers squeezed around the door handle so tight the thing cracked and broke off in his hand. It'd make a good tool to hit someone in the face with—like a brass knuckle made of plastic. He held it up and examined it for a few seconds.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You gonna hit me, Jack? I can see it in your eyes. I deserve to be hit. I sure do."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack opened his fingers and the handle tumbled out and fell to the ground. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Why weren't you at her funeral then, if you're so sorry?"</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I've always wondered that myself, Jack. I just couldn't see her in a coffin like that."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack had gone to the funeral. He'd bent close to her skin, pale and silent with a tinge of blueness within every line. And he'd placed a kiss down upon her lips, cracked and silent like a desert canyon.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The door opened behind Jack, and he turned to see his runaway hesitating on the stoop. Victor's eyes drew up and it was as if he were seeing a ghost. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"She looks just like her, Jack."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"But it ain't her." His teeth ground saliva into foam.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Just like her." Victor extended a hand to help the runaway step down. There were tears in her eyes, but she smiled anyway. "Are you real?" Victor asked her, and she said, "I am."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">B</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">y morning, the winds had switched their direction and the people of the camp emerged with shadows under their eyes. They knew a transfer had occurred. Hard not to with your runaway sitting alongside a different man, your shirt switched for his—a blue jersey with stains on the front.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack avoided stares and ate his breakfast, a piece of wheat bread toasted over the fire and two cups of coffee to rinse it down. He set up to leave, pausing only once to hear Moe explain how the vasectomy had saved his life, though he wished he could still do things like any other man. "I feel like I have to prove myself to the world," he said, eyes squinted, and Jack nodded.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"You don't have anything to prove to me," Jack said. Really he was saying: </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Goodbye, friend.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When he got home, he'd sell the Cimarron to the first person with a wad of money in their fist. He planned on setting up a pay-by-session photo business. Time to disappear, gel, fit in. Become one with the human race. Not with misfits of the roads. They could keep to themselves and do what it was they did, but he had lost his desire to watch them do it. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Perhaps a river had broken in him after all, though he'd tried hard to avoid it. She passed by in Victor's shirt and Jack thought he saw a bruise on her cheek where one hadn't been before. She looked lost on the inside, where it went deeper and decayed a person. He grabbed her arm and regretted it, but didn't let go.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Let me take you to Sturgis. It's no trouble to me."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Thanks all the same," she said, her blue eyes veiled in shame.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"I'm heading home." A question.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"No thanks. I'll never go home again."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">His fingers loosened. He ran a hand all along her arm, up her shoulder and then to her cheek. "Then, this is goodbye."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Goodbye," she said with tears. Hard little tears, because it was too late for an apology. They ran like rivets of mercury into his palm. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"The first thing that happens when you grow up," he said, "is you learn to say no. Understand? Sometimes, you don't want to say no. Sometimes it kills you to say no, but you have to." He drew his hand away from her face and dragged its wet surface across his chest, up to his very own cheek.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">They parted. The breaking sun turned her hair into glass as she walked away.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">From the Cimarron he watched a silver bullet drive off, and for the first time in his life he said a prayer. A prayer for his runaway. That she might yet escape all the things that had her running.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He didn't wait to start out back home. He drove to Mount Rushmore with its four faces, all men of stone and sin, and sold the Cimarron cheap. The buyer couldn't believe his luck. He looked over the rig longer than necessary, just to make sure it wasn't full of rust.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"She's in good shape, except for the door," said Jack. He showed him the missing handle.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Then why you selling?" the man said. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"It is just time," Jack said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-10916130772720030072023-10-16T09:22:00.001-07:002023-10-16T09:35:14.559-07:00Seeds and Balloons--a neurodivergent story<p style="text-align: center;"> <span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 18pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">All Us Seeds</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-c98210ba-7fff-30d4-9756-e3d45743c22e"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">bought this little bag of flax seeds.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I don’t know why.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Okay, I do know why. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The seeds are tan, and tear shaped. They look like tomato seeds, only not that slimy. They are dry and smooth. When I feel like it, I pinch a helping out of the bag and sift them into my mouth. I crunch all at once, though a few escape to a dip beneath my tongue. At first, they have a waxy taste and texture then as my saliva surrounds them, they turn soft and become coated with a thick goo. I play a mouth game where I search for leftovers and draw each one to my front teeth to be split open. I think I do this because I am lonely. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Today I went to the library. It was lonely there too. I was looking for books to read, which is the only reason to go, unless you’re looking for a friend. But I wouldn’t recommend the library as a good place to find a friend, because people are quiet there. The more the silent a person is, the more secrets they have. I should know. I am quiet. I did not find a friend at the library today. Only books. Which is why I went.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I guess a good place to find a friend is at a bar. Everyone there is looking for someone, or something. Maybe they should try flax seeds. I can picture us sitting at little round tables, some drinking, some not drinking, holding little bags and pouring the seeds into our open mouths. Crunch, crunch, crunch. And then search, search, search. All night, all of us crunching and searching.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Do you remember when you were a kid, and someone invited you to a birthday party? There was cake and punch and little napkins, and balloons. The mom would explain that you had to pop a balloon until you found a note inside. That meant winning a prize. Some kid holds up a piece of paper while the rest of us sit among latex shrapnel. The prize was always some little plastic thing you could buy in a candy machine.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">You know what a kid really wants? A balloon.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I’ll tell you where I bought the seeds: a health store in town, right next to the pet store. I hate going there because there are dogs in cages with sad faces pressed against the wire mesh. Maybe that’s why I bought the seeds, because I saw them and cried. It made me feel so lonely. Cage-to-cage. All those stores and all of us, elbow-to-elbow. That's how I felt. Alone. I’d adopt one, but my mom said I'm allergic. Anyway, the apartment owner says the walls are too thin.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">One day I’ll reach into the cabinet and find the seeds are gone. Then I’ll have to buy more. Then I’ll see the puppies and remember how lonely I am. And then I’ll end up at the library, or maybe the bar. If they put balloons in bars, everyone would have a much better time.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Or maybe I’ll go nowhere at all.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><div><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-35598125419606184552023-10-12T05:15:00.001-07:002023-10-12T05:15:51.933-07:00Photo collage <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhti_Ovm_VoabF7MiFF5ByXMPvpfanwFxEJYY-Cino7mW0aE5uhmHyojdxIAqFPYgRtGQTjniCr5sRHPKjAdT5Vcfwi5Y5nGoHahATAeuNZM1W7IpwCDprZ9t6Y4Znz1YAHvtgcQzPyqD5o2F63YniAI4zhYDoVr8v4N1hRatsLJVNtR9LIcu3J1wp57A/s4032/EA39EBA3-79D3-42C3-BF45-63B2BFBB90DF.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhti_Ovm_VoabF7MiFF5ByXMPvpfanwFxEJYY-Cino7mW0aE5uhmHyojdxIAqFPYgRtGQTjniCr5sRHPKjAdT5Vcfwi5Y5nGoHahATAeuNZM1W7IpwCDprZ9t6Y4Znz1YAHvtgcQzPyqD5o2F63YniAI4zhYDoVr8v4N1hRatsLJVNtR9LIcu3J1wp57A/s320/EA39EBA3-79D3-42C3-BF45-63B2BFBB90DF.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVp90whytU9DQqqKukJMM1NidyqBMNhK9Wz-CYs6_cv3xBXG7b224gKrm4lFAhZ7CujV7fWtXEeXWctLrdXoVqOlv-L-7GQ-ZCohHrRVOCc7gQWA_0WkF3HAOY0wG6b_7HtH_RYP6GRKCGLCWT1Qj2E6YHwJHn0bcFr0vg4KfGH1oB_upuNpHfOQhKLUI/s4032/E841E369-E5F3-4030-A9D4-384983736293.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVp90whytU9DQqqKukJMM1NidyqBMNhK9Wz-CYs6_cv3xBXG7b224gKrm4lFAhZ7CujV7fWtXEeXWctLrdXoVqOlv-L-7GQ-ZCohHrRVOCc7gQWA_0WkF3HAOY0wG6b_7HtH_RYP6GRKCGLCWT1Qj2E6YHwJHn0bcFr0vg4KfGH1oB_upuNpHfOQhKLUI/s320/E841E369-E5F3-4030-A9D4-384983736293.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih3V1c1kF8x0aWoeKjpNFMUuvG9GTXZSVo559Bfxzc0cnzyvmW4vfLoEutV7AnNvIJXxifyk3YQJqZFxfKzcmAvWXHPVx5ca-2Vb0iwllXLPqj7ZDMYApn4i8Om6r5VE7JgmGTpQ4yEaUBs9QRc_TZDNWvqOeQSerbuBzjCC6n66LCJRD4oxZAWYgF5wc/s4032/C81E231A-CF79-44C3-AD24-30D0618BB160.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ktRiycBsM8-7ihztjs6zoxP2owAuWOjW7p4nqdVqqVP74X36ukCiySN0R3EtfkcTIi2aCxgFkV5dFVS7n8W_IRrMEeA2tI4cF8WnKQE1NMrRQDQ3joEoXqp7inj9mtY3Aby-Ea66XRkSDXaLy2ii1LyRoVZVakg4adMPpFcR4dnYcie6_2-XoispXlw/s1280/tennis-7932067_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="1280" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ktRiycBsM8-7ihztjs6zoxP2owAuWOjW7p4nqdVqqVP74X36ukCiySN0R3EtfkcTIi2aCxgFkV5dFVS7n8W_IRrMEeA2tI4cF8WnKQE1NMrRQDQ3joEoXqp7inj9mtY3Aby-Ea66XRkSDXaLy2ii1LyRoVZVakg4adMPpFcR4dnYcie6_2-XoispXlw/w400-h266/tennis-7932067_1280.jpg" title="Image by Diego Ortiz from Pixabay" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span></div></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The Match</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">They met Mondays at a park outside of the city, the one with a tennis court pocked like the moon. He liked her sensibility and how she met him with a smile, with something else hidden behind her eyes. He wanted to ask if she liked her job, how her day had been, but never went on to press. If she appeared happy, he wouldn’t ruin it. Questions about life tended to bring weight to the court. And when she was light, light as moonbeams, he felt light too. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She arrived three minutes late, car blasting with rock music so loud he heard her before seeing her. Not thrasher rock, not pop rock. Something else. Something young, but he didn’t know what. When she walked past him to the court, clean towel in hand and racket slung across her shoulder, he turned to follow without a word, watching her short bob bounce with every step. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hello, Louise,” he said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hello, stranger.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She never said his name: Curtis. Maybe she felt it was too intimate to say out loud.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“The court is ours,” he said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Then, let’s play.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Leaves fell across the tarmac like feathers. The smell reminded Curtis of his childhood, of collection and destruction. The rake, slowly dragging across grass and dirt, scarring roots and rocks, its metal fingers grabbing the leaves, ripping into the dirt, a slow drag, the death of fall, always told of winter coming soon. The passing of All Souls’ Day. Of birds flying, leaving a strict silence. The migration of everything.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She’d asked him straight off to hit the first serve. He’d agreed because it gave him a chance to show off. A good serve was valorous, and to have it come back swiftly, to hit it back swiftly, the steady come and go, it all started with him and that one good arm. Rarely did he miss that serve, or hit the net. Rarely did she miss hitting it back. They were both good for a long pass. Maybe that’s why she agreed to play with him, because his serve and her tenacity. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Louise’s husband, Yousef, worked in finance. Used to play football, and was a real solid type. A silver fox. Thick hair, graying beyond the temples. Reliable, formidable. Like rock. Like granite. So much like the Twin Towers they worked in each day. South tower, that is. Curtis thought of these things while they played. He liked turning people into symbols. His mind ran constant, like a dripping faucet. He and Yousef had gone to college together and created a bond of friendship, but it wasn’t exactly friendship anymore. It was something else. More business-like, more like being associates or mirrored comrades of the past, but not friends. When Louise had come along, perhaps that was what had changed things. Curtis couldn’t quite be sure, but something, the air, the secularity, their closeness, had evaporated into a new element. And neither spoke about it, or tried to change it, they just let it be.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The best thing about Louise was that she was easy and friendly, not at all like Yousef, so it had become a sort of exchange. Not bad, just different. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">They didn’t talk about Curtis’s wife, Alice, who had been sick for years. She habitually skipped the spousal Christmas party, as well as the tropical-themed Bar-B-Q in July for clients as well as friends. They didn’t talk about her, or mention her absences, and Curtis didn’t mention her sallow, acne-pitted skin, stringy hair, or the bumpy red marks hidden with designer, long-sleeved blouses. It was a difficult subject to bring up, raised his GERD, made him feel uneasy and faded, and one reason he came to play tennis with Louise was to forget Alice, and all of that anyway. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">No, they didn’t mention Alice, nor did they mention Yousef. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A few months ago, they had started going to lunch after each match, and then after that, out of some aberration of themselves, they rented a room at a nearby Hilton, and made love. It was a relief, a reward. A reward for the winner, though Curtis always felt guilty later if that particular person was him, and he lost the match the next time on purpose as a kind of self-punishment. And yet, why should he feel guilty? All for doing something that felt good and made him human, which other people did all the time. But he was different, had always been, so it felt sinful. It was sinful. Someday Alice would find out, and then what? God, was she broken before, what would she be after?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He threw the first serve and watched it catapult toward Louise, her hair shining like caramel as she shot forward to make the hit, and he wondered what things would have been like if </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">they’d</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> married instead. What would it be like to rise in the morning in the same bed, to not worry about an overdose, or if his wife would end up in court, or worse, prison, after writing another bad check at Macy’s? Louise would be soft and open, secure, that’s what she would be, and no weight or guilt, just them waking up and accepting each day, even if it was a bad day.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The ball flew to his side and he attempted to thwok it back, but it nicked the edge of his racquet and careened into the net. He laughed and retrieved it with an air of embarrassment. “Sorry,” he apologized, and swiftly hit it across. That had never happened. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">They had a decent run, playing through a distraction of children who’d come to play at an adjacent jungle gym, and another couple who’d joined them on the next court. An older couple who were there for the exercise, not to talk or look at each other, although they seemed to enjoy it well enough. Once Curtis caught Louise watching the couple with a sort of fascination while drinking her ice-blue Gatorade, hair wet on the temples and one shoelace untied. Afterwards she took her time tying the lace, sitting on the court like a child left behind, tongue pushed to one corner in concentration. When she stood, she caught him—he’d been staring at her legs—and turned away.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She ran a hand up her arm and to her neck. “Who’s ahead?” she asked, and massaged some invisible enemy under the skin. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, that—that would be me,” Curtis said. “You hit it out of bounds last time.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Right. You’re right.” She let go of her neck and then swatted the ball across the net to him, skirt flipping curtly behind her. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He asked later, as they stood by her car, “What was it that fascinated you about the older couple? I saw you watching them.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, I don’t know. It was the way they played, as if the whole thing was completely orchestrated. Like they’d played the same exact match many times and hadn’t changed one part of it. They were in complete unison, in a dance, and yet they seemed fine with the monotony.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Curtis dared to touch her on the shoulder. Her flesh was warm with deep muscle friction, yet growing Autumn-cold. “You think it would be boring and unpredictable? To be together that long?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Maybe,” she replied, and slipped inside her car. “Meet me there?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Fine. I’ll meet you there.” He shut her door with a soft click.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After lunch, and at the hotel, the desk clerk acted in a perpetual annoyance, which suited things. It helped to project the negativity of their actions onto him instead. It was always the most embarrassing, most revealing moment. Curtis signed his anonym, as did Louise—he’d chosen Trevor and she’d chosen Stella. And he always paid cash.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Then they took a shower and made love. It was a simple arrangement.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Not exciting, nor groundbreaking.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Sometimes while they had sex Louise asked him to be rough with her. Not physical violence, merely rough penetration and worst of all she liked to be called derogatory names. He didn’t understand it, and he didn’t enjoy doing it. But it was what she had asked, so he complied. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Then it would be forgotten, and they’d laugh and make jokes while getting dressed. The depression and guilt would seep in later, around dinner, just around twilight when the day was gone and only a cold draft of silence permeated things. Alice, with her silence, and the sunken eyes, those hapless, ever-accusing eyes, because why couldn’t he help her, love her, do more for her as he’d promised to? That was what kind of man he was. But, god he’d tried. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Twilight held the promise of a dark loneliness.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Curtis stopped Louise before she grabbed her shoes. “We never talk,” he said. Now her skin felt warm and dewy, like his. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“We talk in bed,” she teased, hair tossing back.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, but that’s not—I don’t know. What </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">am </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I trying to say? Oh! I’ve been wanting to ask how things are between you and Yousef, but I can’t seem to ever get it out.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“We’re fine,” she said, sliding a pale foot into one sneaker after first untying the laces. They looked like webs, her fingers, the spider. “The truth is we fight, we don’t see each other as much as married people should, and we’re both cheating on each other—if that’s any indication. I think he’s seeing another co-worker. Seems to be a pattern.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Curtis nodded. He knew all about the co-worker, and was shocked Louise had found out as well. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Do you ever feel guilty about us?” he asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Sure, of course. We’re sinners. We’re dirty, vulgar people,” she said. “But somehow I don’t feel bad about it. Only mildly.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Curtis joined her on the bed. He waited for her to be done re-tying the laces. Now her fingers were deft crochet hooks, joining and pulling. Two bunny ears, circle around, go through the mouth; pull tight—that’s what his mother taught him. He himself had taught his son to stick two pieces of Velcro together—not quite the same. Curtis wished now that he’d bought him sneakers with laces, and hung around more instead of leaving him with Alice, but now Trevor was seventeen and didn’t care about learning things or being around fathers. He was a big boy—in college. Gone.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">An empty house. Home sweet home.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I feel guilty, constantly,” Curtis said, and turned to see the time on a bedside digital clock. When he twisted back around, he imagining himself setting a hand on Louise’s thigh. Did he want to do it because he loved her, or because he needed something, to be soothed, to connect? Did he love her? He didn’t know anymore, or himself anymore, or what he got up each morning to accomplish. It was set in a pattern and he merely finished the list. A touch, one daring touch, meant so much more than anything. It meant softness and vulnerability. It meant, communication. Why didn’t they communicate? They made love. But it wasn’t love. And why wasn’t that enough?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He’d failed at so much. And now he didn’t know what was left to give or to receive. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Louise stared at his hand on the bed then slid/pushed off to go grab her purse. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s getting late,” she said. “You know how traffic is. Are you ready?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Curtis stood. He slipped the room key—a plastic card—into his slacks. “We still have a few minutes, but I have a meeting and need to get back early. Louise—”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“If you ever divorced Yousef, what would you do? Play around, stay single . . .”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’d go live on an island.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He knew she was joking. “Alone?” he asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, alone. No one there but me. I’d like to see what it’s like to not have to worry about men.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh.” Her answer had been more direct than he’d expected. “What are we?” He wouldn’t ask if she cared for him. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“We’re sympathizers. You know, we help each other. It’s been rough. Marriage is rough.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Curtis nodded. “Alice was pregnant two years ago and I figured it wasn’t mine, so I asked her to have an abortion.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I don’t know what to say, Curtis.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It was a violation. I’m a hypocrite.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“And if it was yours?” Louise asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Then, I’d be sad. I am sad. It probably was and the only part I played was providing the sex, not anything else. What does that make me?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“An asshole,” Louise said, then made an addendum. “We all are.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She reached for the door.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’ll go home tonight, Louise, and I’ll feel like killing myself.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Don’t kill yourself.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’ve never told anyone before.” He came toward her and dropped his head onto her shoulder. When he did, he felt relieved, but also weak. “I wouldn’t actually do it.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Louise didn’t turn around to comfort him, perhaps that would be too much. For her, at least. Instead she stood still as a tree, breathing in and out calmly. Curtis, wanting to forfeit everything in the piquant scent of her neck, lifted his head and decided not to apologize.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I wish I was stronger,” he said. “I wish I knew how to leave.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But you won’t. You can’t. She needs you. That’s the way it is.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Outside it had turned cold. A sky devoid of aberration had turned a concrete grey, and on the street a bitter wind threaded through Louise’s damp hair. Beside the driver’s side door Curtis bent down to lay a lackluster kiss her on her lips, the first one ever in a public setting. She allowed it, eyes closed.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Next week?” he asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I don’t think so. Haven’t we played enough? We’ve sort of figured each other out—I know your moves, you know mine,” her voice weaved into the sounds of the street. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He nodded. A cycle ending. A match ended. Another one would begin. But with who, and when, and did either of them have enough stamina to proceed with someone else when the real issue was that neither one of them had the tenacity left to play another set? After all, he’d won. How many times could you come out even?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, I agree,” he said, shutting her door. “But, call me if you change your mind.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When she turned the key in the ignition the music started up, so raucous it made tremors at his feet. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.61818; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Drive safe!” he shouted at the closing window, then threw up a casual wave. He watched as she sped away into a line of cars, all going one direction. </span></p><br /><br />Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-88132253724470228422023-08-31T11:58:00.008-07:002023-08-31T12:07:20.948-07:00Amour de Robot #17<p><br /></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMM7HNhPILAwlb8zwDkv9NoGdQCLPOu1ce0nkQf0zDP_4jQj-_u8Nfi4TXNDkRwAYYg2ZD1_WXiNnwt028S5zeaIPUiW2URyTSPwkQhwhlVkSprxasnJ3Bt51izlX84S_eV_tQgQQYvVq3xQ280ppEogSMo3dM81UfwPcMUTfwGAXAkEHtU6yhnOvaS-8/s5673/pexels-cottonbro-studio-5473956.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3782" data-original-width="5673" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMM7HNhPILAwlb8zwDkv9NoGdQCLPOu1ce0nkQf0zDP_4jQj-_u8Nfi4TXNDkRwAYYg2ZD1_WXiNnwt028S5zeaIPUiW2URyTSPwkQhwhlVkSprxasnJ3Bt51izlX84S_eV_tQgQQYvVq3xQ280ppEogSMo3dM81UfwPcMUTfwGAXAkEHtU6yhnOvaS-8/w400-h266/pexels-cottonbro-studio-5473956.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>
<p align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">Amour de Robot #17</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"> When a married
couple had forgone copulation for more than a five-month period it was required
they report the aberration to their therapist. If actions could not be made to
amend the situation, an amoureuse or a jouet de sex masculin would be
commissioned. Week-by-week Sharima explained to her therapist, Maxine—a dry-looking
woman with stick-straight silver hair—that a desert had crawled and spread
inside the confines of her marriage due to a mysterious corruption. Like a
tooth decayed beyond fillings, the reality of her marriage could not be
dissected in a public setting, nor did she wish to fix things. She just wanted
to know how to be stronger, so that one day she might tell Wendel it was over herself. </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Sometimes it felt as if he was taking things from her; passing through the hall with an invisible stab to the back and all her blood drained; the cold way his hand knocked into hers in the bathroom over their marble countertops; a shift of silence while the morning coffee stewed then leached into their empty, gray stoneware mugs. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">When Maxine asked Sharima for the umpteenth time how ‘things were’ and was told ‘the same,’ a slip for a jouet de sex masculin was written up.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“It won’t do any good,” Sharima explained.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“It’s worth a try,” Maxine told her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">Sharima drove to the nearest pharmacy to have it filled, and to get it
over with.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Regrettably, Wendel had already admitted he’d had </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">his</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> prescription filled two weeks prior, adding he’d protested at first then given in because one’s health was important, and their marriage was important, yet he hadn’t told her what the results of <i>his </i>amoureuse were. From Sharima’s vantage, the effect was obvious and immediate. He smiled more, spoke less. Wendel did not allay if the female robot was still in his usage, and yet those extra hours and unaccounted for hotel bills were adding up like cobwebs in the corner. It was a frightening thing, this secret, much worse than their actual marriage. It felt like a new problem. And now she was being forced to give in and find out herself whether or not a medically prescribed sex robot was a remarkable thing or a vexation like a slow car wreck to endure.</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Right there under halogen lights, the young
pharmacist told her to fill out a list of attributes for her sex robot: hair
color, body type, eye color and as for wit: sarcasm or silence. Sharima had
trouble with that one. Her husband could be both sarcastic <i>and</i> silent,
sometimes to the point you wondered if he had a pulse. She decided on the
better of two evils, sarcasm, and went on to the next question. Did she prefer
kisses or hugs? Kisses, she wrote, scratched it out then wrote hugs. She
scratched it out again and emphatically wrote kisses. Her face burned hot like
a welder’s torch when she handed the slip to the pharmacist. He took it, his
hair stained green with neon dye, and pressed a wet rubber stamp onto the top
corner. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“That’s model 17,” he said. “Strange.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“What’s so strange about it?” she asked.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Well, the most popular model is 13. 15
comes in close, but no one’s ever chosen 17.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“I’ve never been one to follow the crowd,”
she replied. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">He disappeared into the back room of the
pharmacy and Sharima nervously waited. A mother with a sick child came around.
The child had a dry cough and lazy, heavy eyes. “Is everything okay?” Sharima
asked, and the mother shrugged. “I don’t know if a dry cough is normal—you see,
I don’t have children,” she went on. “We did try.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“Allergies,” the mother said in a terse tone, shifting the child to her other
hip. She rang the service bell impatiently and the child stirred. “Hush. We’ll
get your medicine and mommy can send you back to Screen School.”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">The child turned their golden, soft head to stare at Sharima. A smile
formed and Sharima smiled back. She didn’t know how to smile at children but
when she did the child seemed pleased. Maybe they weren't all mess and snot as
Wendel had told her each time their attempts to procreate had failed. It wasn’t
in the cards, he’d explained, and then stopped explaining. His silence after
that became accusatory, and then Sharima felt something inside of her die. </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">The young clerk came out with a waxy faced,
six-foot man in plaid shirt and nice trousers; brown hair as she’d requested
and brown eyes. It was a nice touch that he was wearing sneakers. Number 17 looked
at Sharima with expectation, and she averted her eyes. She hadn’t expected him
to be <i>that</i> realistic.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“Here you go,” the clerk said, nudging him forward. “All fresh and new.
Never used.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">A look of embarrassment crossed Number 17’s face.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“Will he still work the same?” Sharima asked and the woman with the child
smirked. </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Sure. It’s like having a new car. No
kinks, but you gotta figure out what makes him run smooth. Look, if there’s any
problems, just bring him back and I’ll get a replacement.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Number 17 lowered his head.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Oh . . . I won’t be doing that. I’m sure
he’s fine.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">The young clerk wrote something on a
transfer pad and put the pink copy in Number 17’s front pocket. “Extended renewals
can be made by calling your therapist. There you go, big boy,” he said, pushing
him toward her again. “He’s all yours.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">The way the woman looked at her, and now the child. Eyes of accusation
and disgust. The clerk as well, though maybe Sharima was imagining these things.
</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Come here, 17,” she heard herself say in a
coaxing manner, the way you’d draw a hesitant dog toward you. She held out a
hand.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“I am voice operated,” he said. “But we can conduct human touch if it
makes you more comfortable.”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">His hand was warmer than she’d expected. Like a real hand. Strong and
firm. Together they walked from the pharmacy into a day full of sunlight marred
only by a few clouds. On the way to the car, she led him past window displays. They
came upon a children's toy store. “I used to have one of those,” she said, breaking
the ice. “It’s called a pogo stick. I was awful at it. Have you ever been on a
pogo stick before, 17?”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">He did not answer, so she moved on to the
next window.</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Rings. Jewelry. Expensive, shining stuff on
velvet stands. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Why did you ask about the pogo stick back
there?” he said. “I am not programmed to be a child,” he said next to her. “I
am programmed to be an adult.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“I know,” Sharima said, embarrassed.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“So to answer your question, no, I have not
been on a pogo stick, nor am I programmed to do so. I don’t play with toys. And
I don’t bounce. I am programmed to do </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">other
</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">things. When will we go to the
hotel?” he asked.</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">She turned to him. “We’re not going to a hotel. There’s no need to. My
husband is out of town. It’s very convenient. My husband is an efficient,
convenient man.”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“You are ashamed to go to a hotel—cited from
Psychology 101.com. Will there be charging stations in your home?”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“You just did an internet search? Oh . . . um,
yes, we have a charging station for the vacuum. The voltage should be fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">He paused. “You’re right. It will be enough. Cited from Power Lab.com.”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“You are just a walking-talking Google, aren’t
you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“I don’t understand—”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“Never mind. I was joking. The car’s just down this way.”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">They came upon a flower stand of pink roses.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Do you like these?” he asked.</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Sharima sighed. “Not really. I like Carnations.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Eighty percent of women prefer roses, the
rest a variety of blooming flowers consisting of Lily of the Valley, Tulips and
Carnations. It is not typical for a woman to dislike roses. It indicates a
mental health issue. Cited from Psychology 101.com.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Well, isn’t that nice?” Sharima said,
annoyed. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Would you like one?” he asked. “A carnation,
I mean. I can put an order in right now.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“How are you going to do to do that?”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Like this,” he said, shoving one hand out.
A fine smoke emitted from the index finger, then a laser beam shot out of his
iris. An image of a pink carnation appeared in the smoke. Sharima reached for
it, but her hand passed right through. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“It is a hologram,” he said, smiling. “I
can make anything.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“I don’t know why I thought it would be real,”
Sharima said. “I guess this whole thing has warped my sense of reality.” She
felt a strange disappointment. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“You are morose.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“I am not.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“I sense desperation. Would you like me to
call 1-800-suicide?”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“No, I would <i>not</i> like that. I think
we should go home now. Here’s the car. Would you like to see my home, 17?”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">His face brightened. “Yes.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Good. Get in.” Once inside her old rusted hatchback,
she reached for the seatbelt, noticing he did not do the same. But of course he
wouldn’t. If there was an accident, he wouldn’t die, he’d simply not exist. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Minutes later, she pulled up to a split
level home with natural wood elements and tall windows—the kind Wendel had
insisted on because he liked natural light. It saved money. “Here we are,” she
said, turning off the engine. “What do you think?” she asked.</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">17 peered from of the passenger side window.
“It is in the million-dollar bracket but in today’s market you could list it
for more. The market is hot right now. Cited from Real Estate Mafia.com.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“We’re not selling.” Sharima grabbed her
purse. “Ready?”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">She made him dinner, though he couldn’t eat
it. He pretended to pick at the curry she’d made and sometimes he picked up the
glass of chardonnay she’d poured for him, but the liquid never went beyond his
lips. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“It is a good vintage,” he said. “If you
had not opened the bottle, it would be worth two-hundred dollars in ten years’
time. Cited from Wine Valley.com.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Sharima finished the last of her food and
wine and stood up to clear the dishes. “Listen, 17, I want to make a request.
Stop citing the web. It’s not romantic.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“But you specifically requested the fact
package.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“But mostly the romantic package.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“You want me to be less factual? Yes or no?”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Yes, I want you to be less factual.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">She’d asked for the fact package because it
sounded <i>honest</i>. Wendel lied all the time and thought she believed it,
yet being spoon-fed facts was no picnic either.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">17 put his hands in his lap, then Sharima
heard a motor click and something whirred deep inside. She stacked the dishes
loudly to block out the noise. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Hey, sweetie,” he said in a brand new tone,
“did I ever tell ya I like your blouse?” he said, leering at her.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go back to
being factual, but not <i>too</i> factual. I mean, you can lie, but no come-ons—"</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Please wait. My brain is processing . . .” </span>Whir.
Click. “Feeding me was not required,” he said. His eyes followed as she turned
on the tap. That’s when she noticed a small portion of his hair split by a
tiny, microscopic lens. </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“Are you recording me?”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“No, but I am watching. It’s part of my
panoramic abilities. It does not record or go to a cloud-based storage system
if you’re worried.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Sharima downed the rest of the wine. “Just
so you know, 17, you don’t have to watch me all the time.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“It makes you uncomfortable? I will put the
lens away.” It popped back into his skull and his hair went back into place.
“The sink . . .”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Oh!” She’d left the tap on. Sharima ran to
turn it off before water ran all over their expensive refurbished barn floor. “My
husband would <i>die</i> if I let this shit he calls perfection rot.” </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“It is cheap wood,” 17 said. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“That what I told him!”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Very replaceable. Linoleum would last
longer. Cited from—”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“No, no. But thank you. Finally, a voice of
reason. I’ve tried to tell Wendel about the floor but he insists on these
things.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Your husband shows signs of OCD. Does he take
medication?”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Sharima laughed, then leaned against the
counter. The wine was blurring things. What the <i>hell</i> was she doing? She
went to a pharmacy and brought home a male sex robot. Holy shit. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">And now what?</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">On buzzing legs she walked over and stood in
front of 17. “I’m curious—are we really going to have sex?”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Finally,” he said. “A come-on. My real purpose.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Shh,” she said, finger to his lips. “Let’s
pretend you don’t <i>have</i> a purpose. Let’s pretend we met at the library, and
you </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">want</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> to be here. You’re </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">attracted</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">
to </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">me</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">. Pretend . . . you’re human.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“I will try,” he said, then leaned in to
kiss her. “Do you like that . . . baby?” he asked, pulling away.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Yeah, sure. I mean . . .”</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Then I’ll do it some more, baby.” He pulled
her into his lap and kissed her again. John Wayne and Rita Hayworth. A loud,
sharp beep interrupted them. He pulled away. “<i>We have three hours before my
battery dies.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“Three hours? Yeah, that should be enough.” She looked into his mechanical
irises. </span>“Yet that doesn’t seem like enough time to . . . hey, your
eyes look so realistic.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“We’d better be efficient.”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;">Sharima stood. “Upstairs?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">17 followed her to the master bedroom. </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Here we are,” she said, taking off her boots
and pointing to a window seat made of cedar.</span> <span style="color: black;">“You
can sit over there,” she said. “While I put on a nightgown.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">17 strode across the white carpet and sat. He looked almost perfect in
the natural setting, if not for his slightly waxy appearance. “This is a nice
feature for a home. Cedar is a good selling point.”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Sharima unbuttoned her blouse. “We’re not
selling.” One of the buttons caught. Her hands shook. “I can’t seem to be able
to—”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">17 got to his feet and came over in a
nanosecond. Quickly, he began to undo her buttons. One ripped. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“My fingers,” he said, staring down. “I
have failed.” He glanced up at her. “I’m sorry. And you . . . have champagne
shaped breasts.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Trim on top, full on the bottom. A vase,
Wendel said. Not </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Vas</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">. Vase. Like the kind you put on an end table.</span>”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“That’s not very romantic,” 17 said.</span></span>
His<span style="color: black;"> head bowed. </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“What is it? Are you okay?”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“My system . . . is malfunctioning.
My battery is draining.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">She led him to the bed. “Don’t we still have
three hours? Sit. Even your face is pale.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“I am at thirty percent now.” </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Thirty percent,” she repeated. “Well,
that’s still good enough, right?” She patted him on the back.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Not enough to fulfill my purpose, I’m
afraid.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“You’re really being dramatic, 17, like Wendel.
You think you have to please </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">me</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">? No one, and I mean,</span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> no one,</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">
has to</span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></i></span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">do that. I please </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">myself</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">.”
Her face turned hot, but she knew he’d understood.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“That is very complimentary of you, but what
about my pur—”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“<i>Screw</i></span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> your purpose!” she said. “I’m sorry, 17. Look . . . let’s just relax
and forget about it. How about a pillow for your back? And I’ll watch TV, then
we’ll charge you. See? No problem.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“But what about my . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">She put a finger to his lips and they were ice cold.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“I think we’d better start the charging process now. The vacuum charger
is in the laundry room.” She stood and held out both hands for him, then felt another
shock. They too were ice cold.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">“You're freezing,” she said.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“I am sorry,” he replied, and withdrew. “I
am malfunctioning.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">He followed her to the laundry station down the hall. Sharima never
realized how far away it was, as if Wendel had designed it to hide her while
doing chores. </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">She flipped on the light and spun to face him. “How do we do this?”</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">He turned around and lifted the tail of his
flannel shirt. At the small of his back, beneath a flap of faux flesh, lay a
round portal with a triangle-shaped set of holes. A blue light flashed smartly
around the rim. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Well, that’s handy.” Sharima reached down
to the base of the wall to retrieve the charger cord, which had the same triangle
pattern only with prongs instead of holes. Cobwebs brushed her fingers. She
ripped the cord out of the poor, unsuspecting vacuum, and then stuck its spiky
head into 17’s back. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to put
her hands there for other reasons. To slide them up and down. To pretend his
flesh was real. In a moment, 17s entire body began to fill with a pink flush. She
did as well. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“And now?” she asked.</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“I stay.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “Here? I
guess you’re right. And how long will it take to, you know, get back to full
productivity?” </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“All night, I’m afraid. My battery—I did
not tell you—I was ashamed . . . is my most unreliable feature. They told me
it was not my fault. They told me the battery would not matter because I was
projected to be a less-frequented model, perfect as I am. This sounded adequate
at the time but they did not say it would interfere with my . . . my </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">purpose</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">.”
His voice began to fade and his eyes dimmed. “When they sent me to the shipping
station at the warehouse, something strange happened. It was dark, and I was asleep,
but despite that I became aware of everything around me: the beeping of
machines along the concrete walls, the flash of lights when the workers and
their rough talk arrived, off when they left and the terrible silence that
followed. Each time, I felt my battery drain. It is </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">still </span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">draining.
I don’t know what to do.” Again, he looked at his hands. “I do not like this
strange malfunction.” He shoved them into his pockets. “S-Sharima? I-I waited
for you. P-patience is my b-best f-feature. Month after month. Finally, you
came. <i>You</i> came along. I was pleased to know that at last I would have a
chance to f-f-fulfillllllllllll—” His voice glitched then faded. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Sharima finished the words for him without
speaking. </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Your purpose.</span></i></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">“It’s okay, 17,” she said to his drained
face, now an ashy tone of morbid gray. “It’s</span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> going to be okay</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">.”</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">He nodded, and stared ahead, past her to
the blank wall. He appeared sad. But that couldn't be. He was a robot. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">The man in front of her was </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">only </span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">a
robot. </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Her thoughts slipped like train cars down a
steep track. It couldn't be this simple, or complicated, she thought. Another
part of her was furious. It wasn’t </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">fair</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">! </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">A
purpose</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">? Bloody hell! What about </span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">hers</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">?</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">For no reason, she thought of her parents.
They lived far away in an expensive high rise in Dubai. Then, she thought of
Wendel. Yes, even Wendel because he would be a comfort in that moment when she
felt the most alone in her life. But her weakness of needing him, she knew,
would only bring a deeper sense of betrayal later on.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;">Sometimes being alone was better.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">You couldn't depend on anyone, she
realized, to fulfill your purpose whatever it may be. Not a husband, not your
parents, not even a</span><i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> jouet de sex
masculin</span></i><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">Sharima debated whether to shut the light
off or leave it on. In her indecision, 17 did something unexpected. He reached
out and touched her on the shoulder. “G-good-night, S-Sharima,” he said. Then
he shut down completely.</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">She turned to him with a weak smile of her
own, even though she wanted to cry. “Good-night, 17,” she said bravely.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: black;">For a long moment, she studied his perfect
face. He possessed a fine roman-shaped nose, and a squarish jaw. Soft synthetic
eyelashes brushed along his cheeks and in sleep his lips slightly pouted—the
effect made him look like a little boy. Devoid of emotion, rested, eyes closed,
she thought he was perfect. More perfect than a manufactured robot imitating a
man. Or a man imitating a man. For all good intentions, he looked human. More
than that, he looked frail. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;"> She decided to turn <i>off</i> the light. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p>
Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-woman-with-number-code-on-her-face-while-looking-afar-5473956/Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-12572156416619871162023-08-30T15:53:00.010-07:002023-08-30T16:25:40.489-07:00Marco & Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOiCsY3K_neFpTDhGacoSPhsdvsXrzhQ5OoD_fmIaMaf12cRa57AOOOoobH8Kslu-_Yzrh6-T9nK-dAR_SMgYdRdJWU3tVXPNzR2-Y6jzJ6533qyDCBR37I3D7IoCoxoylBeFFdMLGLhLdQJH7izCfGh-fRsTuscqEOVxsW2UB-5b9wdv6FQG3QmifIQ/s6000/pexels-lil-artsy-1540321.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOiCsY3K_neFpTDhGacoSPhsdvsXrzhQ5OoD_fmIaMaf12cRa57AOOOoobH8Kslu-_Yzrh6-T9nK-dAR_SMgYdRdJWU3tVXPNzR2-Y6jzJ6533qyDCBR37I3D7IoCoxoylBeFFdMLGLhLdQJH7izCfGh-fRsTuscqEOVxsW2UB-5b9wdv6FQG3QmifIQ/w266-h400/pexels-lil-artsy-1540321.jpg" title="Photo by lil artsy: https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-of-crystal-pendant-1540321/" width="266" /></a></div><p>Disclaimer: This story is fiction. No people in are being portrayed in truth in any way, shape or form.</p><p><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marco and I scan the
parking lot of the Tri-Peaks strip mall, looking, looking for an open spot. There’s
a promotion going on at Open Eye Gifts, a place that sells swords and stones
and tarot shit for weird-ass people who believe in weird-ass shit like that.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marco is one of those weird-ass
people.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Here’s what I’ll do,”
Marco says.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What?” I reply, tapping
my fingers on the steering wheel. The expensive gel polish, octopus purple, that
I just put on the night before has a chip on the pinky. “What’re you gonna do?”
I go on, annoyed. “Summon magic and open a spot?”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Better,” he says,
swirling the pointed end of his black-strap licorice beard in a circle at the
scene. “I’ll ask my parking lot angel.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Parking lot angel?”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Well, yeah, actually.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“<i>Oh my God</i>. Yeah.
Okay. Go for it, Marco. Parking lot angel. Jesus.” I say it, but the words burn
like a hot iron against my throat.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He closes his eyes and
opens his lips. His hair runs past his shoulders, longer than mine. He wears a
shiny black feather inside–I guess because he thinks he’s a god, or maybe an
angel.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Silent incantations pour
from his mouth.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marco points out that
we’ve known each other forever, that we’re twin flames and destined to be
together. The truth is, we’re <i>just friends</i>. I know this because people
who meet while working at a by-the-slice pizza joint can’t possibly be twin
flames. More like twin losers. But still, he insists we are.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">While he summons an
angel I troll past a Firebird, a Prius, a fire red Jeep Wrangler. In a few, a Britney
Spears wannabee decked out in acid wash low-rise jeans walks up to the
Wrangler, jangles her keys and stalls before getting in.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Bingo,” Marco says,
eyes wide.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Coincidence.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Honey, there ain’t no
coincidence, only synchronicity.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You digress.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She gets in and applies
a layer of lip gloss before checking herself out in the rear-view mirror.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Your parking lot angel
is slow,” I say.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Stop being a bitch.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Impossible.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When she pulls out, I swerve
in and nearly scrape her back end.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Bad karma,” Marco says.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What do you mean? I
didn’t <i>hit</i> her.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“But you wanted to.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“No. I--”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“That’s okay. I love it when
you fight your demons.” Marco sweeps a warm hand up my arm.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Don’t.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">One time he told me nirvana
was achieved by tantric sex. That’s like perfect sex or something--impossible
sex. Like the perfect orgasm or something. It reaches up through your spine,
your brain explodes into ecstasy, and you know <i>everything</i>.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My <i>ex </i>thought he
knew everything.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My <i>ex</i> was an
asshole.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My <i>ex</i> wouldn’t
know <i>tantric </i>sex if it came in a box labeled <i>Tantric Sex</i>.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When I met Marco a year
ago, I was so vulnerable you could sneeze and I’d shake. My PTSD was so bad I
slept in the closet. And now, I’m still waking up clutching a pistol. That’s
what I know. That’s my reality.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I don’t trust anyone, or
anything. Only me. And even then, it’s a hard pass.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marco gets out and waits
for me to come around to meet him. He’s six-foot-three and I’m five-foot-eleven.
If we ever did the Tantric Tango thing, we’d produce Avatar babies. But we’re
never going to do it. I’m a vestal virgin, born again. Ask my rusty hymen. He
throws an arm around my shoulder and we hit Open Eye.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Girl, you’d look good
in this,” he says, holding a crystal pendant to my throat. The store is packed,
and everyone smells like patchouli and curry. The pendant is cold and heavy and
feels like ice. He brushes my red hair aside and sets the clasp behind my neck.
His Marlboro breath raises goose pimples on my clavicle. “You should buy it,”
he says. “Crystals open your chakras. You’ll be in the know, like me.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Can’t afford it,” I
say. He’s set it too tight. My throat constricts, and now I can’t breathe.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Let me buy it <i>for</i>
you,” he says.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“But you’re <i>broke</i>,”
I say, then wait for him to unclip the latch.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I don’t care if he has
to rip it, I want the thing off.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“We’ll split the bill,”
he says. “We’ll, you know, <i>share it.</i> We’ll <i>both</i> wear it,” he
says.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Fuck <i>you</i>,” I
say.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When his back is turned,
I unlatch the thing and stare at the perfectly placed gleaming glob of faux gem
on a single leather rope. The floor swirls. In my faulty vision, the image of a
million icy crystal pendants come at me like rabid sharks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In another aisle, we
look at oracle cards and pendulums. They’re expensive and wrapped in cellophane
with security tabs stuck inside. I can tell Marco is thinking about slipping something
into his jacket. Aka, shoplifting. I guess he remembers the time he got caught
driving around in someone’s car, though, and all the mess with jail and lawyers
and his parents. <i>That was a lifetime ago. Eons. That wasn’t even me. </i>Who
was it?<i> Some other dude. The </i>old<i> Marco.</i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But still, he eyes that
shit forever.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I stole too once upon a
sorry, pathetic me. As a teenager, I had a fancy filling my rayon pockets with
all the dime store crap I could dream of. Daily, I plastered myself with
millions of weak excuses: my mother was sick with Lymphoma and couldn’t get out
of bed, my father had moved to Tacoma to start a bait shop out of a pickup
truck. Like Robin Hood, I longed to show my expensively denim clad classmates
Shanica, Barbara and Tisha without the La, that I <i>too</i> was a badass
bitch. My heists started with silver tone trinkets and perfume, then I indulged
in European candy bars, ruby red Revlon lipsticks, and furry lambswool sweaters
that turned my skin into bumps of fire. I wanted to make them like me, hell, <i>love</i>
me. My mother too. The night before Thanksgiving, I went all the way: I stuffed
an entire frozen turkey into my coat. My nipples, erect, throbbed warnings of
frostbite as I entered the front door of Mother’s apartment, and for all good
intentions, I looked like a pregnant version of her seventeen years before.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The look on her face
when I stumbled into the room.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She was sick, and
coughing. That horrible hack, thick with phlegm. She died when the new year
came to pass.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That was the last thing
I ever stole.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s getting on three
when Marco and I peruse incense. We hold it to our noses. Rain smells like
rain. Grass smells like grass. There’s even one called Heaven, as if anyone could
actually know.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“This guru would look
great in my apartment,” he says, pondering, staring, wanting. “But it’s, like, one-hundred
dollars.” He balances it in his large palm. The guru is a middle-aged man with dilated
pupils. Like my ex. “Wouldn’t it look great in my apartment?” he asks.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Yeah,” I say. “And
every day you can lick it for good luck.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marco sticks out a
tongue and licks it right there in Open Eye. “Done.” He puts it back on the
display counter. I shove it to the back.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In the sword department,
a lady wearing a million beaded necklaces herds us to a card table. It’s
covered in stones that match my nail polish. A deep, dark purple ink. “Tarot
reading?” she asks.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marco shrugs.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Sure, why not?” he
says. “How much?”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Thirty dollars.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marco looks at me.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“The truth hurts,” I
say, and hand him the money. He sits at the table.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">With those icy, bony
hands, she shuffles a deck of tarot cards and lays out an arrangement. Her eyes
are ice too. “I see you’ve had trouble in life.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m standing behind
Marco–when he nods the feather flutters inside and out.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Trouble in love?” she
says.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Again, Marco nods.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“But it <i>will </i>get
better. In time. Once this person sees that you two are meant to be, she’ll
come around. Give it a few weeks, or more. Maybe a year.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“A <i>year</i>?” Marco
asks.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Perhaps more,” she
says.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Okay, a year,” he says.
“What else? Will I ever reach nirvana?” I can’t tell if he’s joking, but the
woman looks indulgently at the cards.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You’re already there.
In your own way, you’ve ascended. You’ve let your past transform you. We need <i>more
</i>of that on this planet, people who <i>see</i>. People who are <i>awake</i>.
And about this person,” she says, “they’ve had trouble too, similar to yours.
They <i>do </i>love you, but their heart has been broken, taken from them again
and again. Instead of opening, they’ve gone into a coma. They’re afraid to
trust you, afraid you’ll steal their love. Yes, yes, this person is <i>terrified</i>.
You’ll just have to wait.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She collects the cards
in one big sweep and shoves them into a pouch, crusty and thick with Swarovski
stones.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marco gets up. The
feather flutters. It falls, and I bend over to pick it up. It’s soft in my
palm, still warm, and Marco looks different now without it.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I can wait,” he says
quietly to the woman. “Is that all?”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“No, not all,” she says.
“I saw a new job in your future. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe culinary. Maybe
retail? Maybe writing. I don’t know. You are a complicated man.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marco laughs. On the way
out, he flashes her the peace sign.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In the parking lot, we watch
the pitted pavement move beneath our unwashed sneakers. Flattened gum, oil
slicks, tobacco stains. Marco lights up.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“She was flirting with
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Nah. She was only being
nice.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Do you really believe
in all that shit?” I ask.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Sure. Why not?”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Because, it’s fake. She
didn’t tell you <i>anything </i>really, just a bunch of crap knowledge that’s
easy to guess. For instance, do you know that if someone asks you to pick a
number between 1-10 people pick 7? We’re all so goddamned gullible.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marco hands me the cigarette.
I take a drag. The slow burn in my chest erases the upset. He grabs it back.
“Well, she told me I was awakening,” he says, “and no one knows that. Except
you. No one knows how much I’ve gone through. Except you. And she told me about
<i>that girl</i>. The one who hurts, the one who loves me. But <i>doesn’t</i>
love me, <i>yet</i>.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Well, then, holy shit.
We should have asked for lottery numbers.” I kick a wadded-up McDonald’s bag
under a rusted, duct-taped truck. “Anyway, I bet she says the same stuff to
everyone.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“No, Marcie, not <i>everyone.</i>”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We get to the car.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Aw, <i>fuck</i>,” I
say. “Look at that!”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Someone’s fire red paint
has thrashed itself into my car’s sparkly blue back bumper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Karma,” Marco says,
laughing, puffing. He gets in. “You should admit it,” he goes on through the
open window, “this is a result of your fear. All the things you hold inside.
Face it, you manifested this. If you were like me, you’d have <i>good</i>
karma. You’d be <i>awake</i>.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Reluctantly, I g<span style="color: black;">et in.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I think about the paint
for a long time, then dig in my purse for the keys. The feather, fluttering
between my fingers like a baby raven, is still there.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He’s laughing when I
turn to him.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I have something for
you,” I say. “Close your eyes.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Really? Okay. <i>Alright</i>,”
Marco says. He takes one last drag, tosses the cigarette out the window, and
closes both his chocolate eyes.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Now, open your hand,” I
say. “Do you trust me?”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Of course, I do.
Exclusively. It’s <i>you </i>who doesn’t trust.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Well, maybe I should
change that. Maybe it’s time.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When he holds out his
hand, I see it’s slightly trembling. “I’m all yours,” he says.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I hand him the pendant.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-7560046129375436032023-08-15T10:11:00.006-07:002023-08-15T10:15:08.893-07:00Here's a little something something while you bleed<p>So buy now you have all used a self-checkout machine, which is basically a computer with scanning capabilities and a Big Brother camera to show your ugly mug--an experience akin to being shamed and baking your cake and eating it too. One day we may find ourselves having to step into the store's kitchen to do just that: mix a cake, bake it, bitch about how bad it turns out then pay and cry. Progress . . . Shy people like me were relieved with the early onset of the self-manned registers, but now it has gotten ridiculous because life once beautiful, once a vibe with light and electricity is now a silver box of nothingness. Yeah, you get your stuff but there's no breath to it. Wham bam no thank you mam because there's no mam, it's a ghost town. </p><p>But Wal*Mart has a plan: why not shove some commercials into our retinas while we bleed cash? Buy buy buy buy buy bye-bye-bye. </p><p><a href="https://www.msn.com/en-us/money/companies/walmart-shoppers-threaten-to-boycott-over-self-checkout-change/ss-AA1fgk24?ocid=msedgntp&cvid=6397e111208747c28770d76408fb5efb&ei=35#image=3" target="_blank">Wal*Mart's plan.</a></p><p>Personally, I'd enjoy a nature film or . . . you know what would be fun? An old-fashioned nickelodeon.</p><p> <iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WmZ4VPmhAkw?si=JVCOkJGOkOxJthQE" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Or how about this? What if they show a film of a cashier saying hi, how's the weather?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-60256743983202342482023-07-28T08:05:00.006-07:002023-07-28T08:09:10.920-07:00Did I predict today's cult?I loved writing this book and am still very grateful that it was published. As you may or may not know, I grew up in a library and always knew I'd be a writer, and this story was the one that lay dormant in me all those years and after. Plus, I feel it predicted much of what's going on today, plus many aspects of my life. If you have read it, thank you! If not, there's still time this summer ot have your hot girl or hot boy summer read! Much love.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Soul-Seekers-Amy-Saia-ebook/dp/B008OIVGHQ/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=amy+saia+the+soul+seekers&qid=1690556674&sr=8-1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Up7_EMwhbTT0ouI1rKAxLsaiKVrJ6Qq1_UGcaljmplKD7ELvqQQepoOnbfiub4HJHG_8i9WtuNinkhZDvm3rAw9mJyXc82LwwLyjKJIvZZVJf2h9JnFFxgcdwXCXVrJzn8gqXYbgqIyJFjOBNeDZRX-EijPKtT9eCAAmxDYlxK2XD9bOa4TCI1vIcnU/w266-h400/SoulSeekers_CVR_MED.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div><div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Soul-Seekers-Amy-Saia-ebook/dp/B008OIVGHQ/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=amy+saia+the+soul+seekers&qid=1690556674&sr=8-1">The Soul Seekers - Kindle edition by Saia, Amy. Paranormal Romance Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.</a></div></div></div>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-32043305773011737182023-07-24T11:27:00.002-07:002023-07-24T11:29:28.073-07:00Rain, the mall, rain<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It wasn’t supposed to rain again but it did: yesterday, today . . . tomorrow? I should be grateful because it’s so hot everywhere else, but as Thelma says in Rear Window, “It only makes the heat wet.” Plus the mosquitoes are everywhere. What a summer! The trips to the mall with my spawn have been nice, and the walks with my dog are good for the soul. I hope you’re having a dry-ish, not-too-hot (or dry/or wet) summer. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfPp9TjuOsMAg36q07y9nxp_hJHp3U-n2lOq5Lr3JtIYH2m_zlaHakTQmAcKqrtXC--SZFqxQL4v0JWsnACrffp3dYCDTs6OllxOu9KtZY9g5EBPSrK3OXyhY_wHVzbU6i1akBO1ADvYFN3kHoxbW9-he8vUN8LIIaQkPKLKKGeRw-5Hn9AGmCNfzy-gM/s4032/1F2E68AC-F324-40AE-BA87-4F217E81FFF2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfPp9TjuOsMAg36q07y9nxp_hJHp3U-n2lOq5Lr3JtIYH2m_zlaHakTQmAcKqrtXC--SZFqxQL4v0JWsnACrffp3dYCDTs6OllxOu9KtZY9g5EBPSrK3OXyhY_wHVzbU6i1akBO1ADvYFN3kHoxbW9-he8vUN8LIIaQkPKLKKGeRw-5Hn9AGmCNfzy-gM/s320/1F2E68AC-F324-40AE-BA87-4F217E81FFF2.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Kcoz8qi96BO1feJZjV_16s0Njp7fp68dGqb9YcA5wtgqg5bU29E20FqvriRPbq2UDhk1HV8DlqG4Y2uhtoHlekVJx0d7D0Z397hbjnuVARqR0IsmCH01uCDSpXF05U2wnTiVMltqJifWvW7mGRAAi1HCBDa00kZK2L1Zwfc-PVQPetwsd7X3l_DNp6c/s4032/5C946437-4591-48E1-9B44-B78095C0DCB1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Kcoz8qi96BO1feJZjV_16s0Njp7fp68dGqb9YcA5wtgqg5bU29E20FqvriRPbq2UDhk1HV8DlqG4Y2uhtoHlekVJx0d7D0Z397hbjnuVARqR0IsmCH01uCDSpXF05U2wnTiVMltqJifWvW7mGRAAi1HCBDa00kZK2L1Zwfc-PVQPetwsd7X3l_DNp6c/s320/5C946437-4591-48E1-9B44-B78095C0DCB1.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzwqtmm3fdniA_ENr5GHBy1w-gZTi-F8MSRsX2NvWZeyLom_c6DHNb_eCaQCccn4BtjA9H1cCyfeZ0wbfeOJdR4cAqwt7HBCGA-UO8Ascn2__KlNYTzb2m9Gm0XlI2UCgHOJzioj52YeCCtH6pGlFV4RSPQQhs1WgA5HvuJmXHlUrc0FZiKSZHp3rU3o/s4032/6AEDFAD2-EF5D-4465-8DEC-6B4DC5B7E6E2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzwqtmm3fdniA_ENr5GHBy1w-gZTi-F8MSRsX2NvWZeyLom_c6DHNb_eCaQCccn4BtjA9H1cCyfeZ0wbfeOJdR4cAqwt7HBCGA-UO8Ascn2__KlNYTzb2m9Gm0XlI2UCgHOJzioj52YeCCtH6pGlFV4RSPQQhs1WgA5HvuJmXHlUrc0FZiKSZHp3rU3o/s320/6AEDFAD2-EF5D-4465-8DEC-6B4DC5B7E6E2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zak1aYHfAAv8kyXhnWcPPAtRF-KnBKGy1wL-8DYA3ihP2t_OA8HtEWXX_po186cWxUIfCNEYMm9F0bzhKgTJVol14KNNbksH_gxb_woroYO_YCbh1BBH3893XkgCT7Bi9PhMjt-iDdmYSi-VxmuBpiG4G2UREsgxRqU0g5irVVFEoZEJpJOITjHlFLw/s320/FEACC58F-7243-4E46-AC5C-B9B350428807.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-1962304652433323112023-07-20T08:29:00.007-07:002023-07-20T08:32:21.195-07:00Remembering that I was once a musician . . .<p>My music from what feels like another lifetime. It doesn't sound half bad after surviving a pandemic and the general chaos of life. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for listening. And, who would I be if I didn't plug my stuff on <a href="https://music.apple.com/us/artist/amy-saia/4074330">itunes</a>? </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ulu1ZooDj_0" width="320" youtube-src-id="ulu1ZooDj_0"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I wrote this one in my garage, probably on a summer day much like this. The general song was there, the riff, and some of the lyrics. The song is based on the somewhat simplistic idea that you can move to a new state and change your entire life--I've always lived close to the border of Kansas and Missouri (had to drive to the latter to get beer on Sunday). Beer is one thing, what about your whole life? It's one of those fascinations of not only societal change, but earth and landscape going from dry flat prairie to lush, hilly lakes and a bunch of small towns hidden amongst in the woods. Have you ever seen the pan handle strip of the northwest area of OK? That is strangely fascinates me as well . . . to live in a desolated strip of America wedged between everywhere else. It feels like another world. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Kansas City is a tough place to live, on both sides, and I kept getting an image of a young man with only a few possessions stepping on a bus that leads to another life. Then came the other stories . . . Thanks again for listening. </div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-55657828953909408982022-12-27T15:23:00.004-08:002022-12-27T15:23:30.790-08:00Shoe Day next?<p>So . . . how was Boxing Day? I can't claim to understand the holiday, but I like that it extends things a bit. There's nothing more depressing than the sight of a tree still green and glistening out in someone's trash pile like a dead carcass. A bit harsh, but that's how it is. I'm with the Brits--make up something, anything, to extend the fun.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzcrD7NoXzauL83zylJo92lawSP69rgqx2rum8D3TeVVKPMILcAHbn89F5TOVx5ZkIJ0hbJAoDasuKYh2fEEbsRezT0kUWRnzPFsdNVnMOjQJw3NGhwsC7eaOKOLXGle2_9eVJNweCoyyoix-5oWi4hzW9cTvsKYtmlMX8YRJ_y1Ir1sb9or48C51x/s310/magical%20mystery%20tour%20pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="310" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzcrD7NoXzauL83zylJo92lawSP69rgqx2rum8D3TeVVKPMILcAHbn89F5TOVx5ZkIJ0hbJAoDasuKYh2fEEbsRezT0kUWRnzPFsdNVnMOjQJw3NGhwsC7eaOKOLXGle2_9eVJNweCoyyoix-5oWi4hzW9cTvsKYtmlMX8YRJ_y1Ir1sb9or48C51x/w400-h232/magical%20mystery%20tour%20pic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>One thing I do know about Boxing Day is that it's when The Beatles aired their wacky, doomed <i>Magical Mystery Tour</i>. I say doomed because apparently it wasn't well received by the general public or fans alike, reason being the BBC aired it in black and white. But see, everyone knew The Beatles weren't green. I don't particularly buy the whole "it wasn't aired in color" excuse because most people didn't have color sets back then, but I can see how the film was beyond the pale for most folks' limited imagination. </p><p>Here's a story, way back when I worked at Sears, Dorothy Dollarhide said she had a VHS copy of <i>Magical Mystery Tour</i> and being the crazy Beatles fanatic that I am, I begged her to lend it to me.</p><p>"It's really horrible," she said, pulling it out of her oversized purse with embroidered cats on it. "You <i>won't </i>like it."</p><p>"Thanks, but you don't know me at all," I said, though I did feel a tinge of insecurity. What if I <i>did </i>end up not liking it? Would it collapse my deck of Beatle cards so carefully put together--my illustrious BIG BEATLE FANDOM no one could pierce? Once a fan, always a fan. </p><p>"I want it back in a week," she said, turning away with her long, white hippie hair swinging in a circle. I dodged. </p><p>That night I went home and carefully shoved the tape into the DVD player--the old Beta was now on crutches despite the movie club commitment Mother had signed in blood. Just <i>three </i>more Beta rentals before she was free. I had the same commitment via Columbia House records and tapes. </p><p>Near an hour later, psychedelic images and musical interludes had flashed before my eyes, and at the end of it I wasn't mad or disappointed. I was giddy. I loved it! I freaking <b>loved </b><i>Magical Mystery Tour</i> and Dorothy could eat it! </p><p>I don't think the problem was that it was a bad film, and neither did I it was Scorsese great. It was THE BEATLES, that's what. I truly think if you love the band as they are, or were, you'll love MMT. But if you only love the mop top Romeo specks in suits, you haven't a chance. Years have passed and though I have, my <i>opinion </i>of the film remains the same--it's still great and even more so as it truly encapsulates a specific time in history that will never come again: a renaissance of music, expression and love.</p><p>If nothing else, MMT had great songs in it, and a few not-so-great but still better than most. NO one can argue that "I Am the Walrus" isn't great and has stood the vice-like pressures of time. I think it's one of Lennon's best, lyric and music-wise. Its sequence comes off like an early version of an edgy music video, which Mike Nesmith (RIP sweet Mike) claims to have created. "Fool on the Hill" is an introspective wonder by Paul with a lovely sort of Kodachrome-ish sunspot dream sequence. I even love George's lackluster "Blue Jay Way" where he sits amid a fog punching keys on a chalk piano and near gets run over by a bus. The whole film is a farce, you see, that's the point. Victor Spinelli (<i>Hard Day's Night. Help!</i>) yells at cows and there's a strip tease at one surreal point. </p><p>I honestly don't know who loves The Beatles and not <i>Magical Mystery Tour.</i> It sort of . . . baffles the Beatle brain. They should air it every Boxing Day and quite whining about the Black and White bit, heck, I didn't have a color TV until high school. But that's enough about <i>my </i>opinion.</p><p>Here's some facts for those of who you also love the film:</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p align="center" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: center; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->1<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Year: 1967 Filming: </span><span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: -0.25in;">11
September thru 25 September 1967, straight after the unfortunate passing of dear Brian Epstein--who had helped plan the film and was looking forward to production. The idea was loosely based off Alan Ginsberg and fellow American poets who had driven around the States in a bus.</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: center; text-indent: -.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p align="center" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: center; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Locations: <span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">shot
in and around </span><span style="background: white; color: #0645ad; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%; text-decoration-line: none;">RAF
West Malling</span><span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">, a
decommissioned military airfield in </span><span style="background: white; color: #0645ad; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%; text-decoration-line: none;">Kent</span><span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> as it was not possible to book any London
film studio at short notice-- the ballroom sequences for "Your Mother
Should Know", were filmed in the disused aircraft hangars</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: center; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->7.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>Airing: <span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">The
film originally aired on </span><span style="background: white; color: #0645ad; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%; text-decoration-line: none;">BBC1</span> <span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> in black-and-white, on </span><span style="background: white; color: #0645ad; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%; text-decoration-line: none;">Boxing
Day</span><span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">, 26 December 1967—but later was shown in color. Shown again in color in
January 1968.</span><o:p></o:p></p><p align="center" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: center; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->8.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Monty Python wanted to use it to start their
live shows, but the plan didn’t happen. However, they were allowed a private
viewing and some of the members went on to form the mock band The Rutles. <o:p></o:p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 107%;">An unscripted film<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Took two weeks to film<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shown on Boxing Day (December 26, 1967, Christmastide)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A failure at onset but loved in time<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 107%;">George Harrison calls it an extended
home movie<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Featured “I Am the Walrus” music
video.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 22.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-89034147864841960312022-12-23T13:55:00.010-08:002022-12-23T14:59:45.363-08:00Mother's always right . . .<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVNybR_LAA5MDU_-NuMpT7NkcEDNh3xqt7mDidIJwGMYPTaruTYRoOvVoZlBd14EAcJ2SzJ7jBDzbLaMXjdvIb_1UEXlGNG83cVI5o_JZ5mPJDForJdnnRs3utEj9ypRRlMsCK3UhKzyNnZlJm6TSxA9gpYjFFOL5mx1L0fftPgZ1r9hgKMbc9VLqy/s312/acs.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="312" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVNybR_LAA5MDU_-NuMpT7NkcEDNh3xqt7mDidIJwGMYPTaruTYRoOvVoZlBd14EAcJ2SzJ7jBDzbLaMXjdvIb_1UEXlGNG83cVI5o_JZ5mPJDForJdnnRs3utEj9ypRRlMsCK3UhKzyNnZlJm6TSxA9gpYjFFOL5mx1L0fftPgZ1r9hgKMbc9VLqy/w400-h231/acs.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>It was 1980s-something, and I had come home late from a Saturday-night babysitting job. My mother rented <i>A Christmas Story</i> from the local Pop-N-Go rental store and stuck a post-it note on it with the message, "Watch this, Amy, it's <i>hilarious</i>." Let me sideline for a second and tell you about the time she scored a sweet deal on twenty free rentals in exchange for the purchase of a Beta video machine--which I programmed to record live TV and little did we know the thing was a dinosaur the second the ink dried on her John Henry. Anyway, while I was gone on my job she and my older brother, on break from an all-boys Catholic seminary, had watched the movie without me.</p><p>I went to the kitchen to grab a snack and came back to start the movie. Scenes from 1940s welcomed me, a time that was my mother's and thus somehow my own. It's like that, isn't it? Your parents' time is yours, and vice-versa. And to be honest, I wasn't unfamiliar with the small town, nor the red brick school Ralph Parker attended--mine had rocking, bubbling boilers and a huge auditorium with red velvet curtains. I also knew that horrible feeling of the sun going down (perhaps forever) while walking through the snow-packed alleyways of town; a strange yet poetic hue of orangey pink pulsing through silver clouds lined with snow--<i>more </i>snow. I too had a bully and dealt with him or her, as well as the shame of poor grades and the fear that another Christmas would pass without getting the one gift I'd asked for, yet still I asked and believed. The loss of innocence would have been the worst depravation of all. <i>A Christmas Story</i> encapsulated all of this--hope, desperation, loneliness, agony, euphoria. Namely, I think it was the sarcasm mixed with a nine-year old boys' logic that got to me. <i>Triple</i>-<i>dog dare</i> . . . brilliant. I hated to admit my mother was right, I mean, she was the one who frequently pointed at the TV, nearly missing my eye, to say that some random actress was <i>so-and-so </i>from a totally different movie. "It's <i>not </i>her," I'd say, but she always persisted. "It <i>is</i>, I'm <i>sure </i>of it." </p><p>One Christmas mother and I went out to find a tree and she wasn't in the best of moods--finances, career, family . . . my father . . . who knows? We pulled up to the lot in her Pinto with the windows you had to manually roll down and no tape deck in the dash to peruse a small collection of trees all priced around $30, our breath freezing before our faces. "I can't afford these, and anyway, we end up throwing it away," she told me. I was upset--invisible tears burned my throat. We came back home treeless, and I spent the rest of the night in bed listening to <i>Phantom of the Opera</i> on headphones, thinking no one understood what it was like to have a mother like <i>this</i>, and life would always be a terrible ordeal. </p><p>My rich cousins across town said they walked out of <i>A Christmas Story </i>after only a few minutes because, quote and unquote, <i>It was horrible and no one acts like that.</i> Sitting there in my mother's livingroom in that tender glow of 16, auburn hair permed to a frizz, freckles splashed across my Statue of Liberty nose and skin itching with a bad case of bacne, I watched the end credits roll across the screen of a black and white TV and thought to myself that I'd never seen anything <i>more </i>relatable. Who hasn't touched their tongue on frozen metal to see if it sticks? Who hasn't taken a dare, or been the aggressor? Who hasn't tried being the teacher's pet in hopes for an A or had someone hold your arm behind your back long enough for you to think it might break? And then the moment you lost it and go postal on your bully, vulgarities flying (the ones Mother taught you).</p><p>Years on, I read the short-story collection the movie<i> </i>had been based on called, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/God-We-Trust-Others-Cash/dp/0385021747">In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash</a></i> by Jean Shepherd who, ironically and fantastically interviewed The Beatles for Playboy magazine in the 1960s. You can't get more iconic than that. That is indeed Shepherd's voice in the movie, the adult version of Ralphie, and he is immaculate with his intonations. The guy had quite a sense of humor and a vivid way to describe life in the Midwest. Sadly, our dear Ralphie probably didn't grow up to squeaky clean, but the memories are great. Really great. My favorite story is about the time his mother and every mother in town collected Depression era dinnerware from the local grocery store, one piece at a time. It turned into a race, who could get every piece--a full of set to replace the chipped, mismatched collection they currently had at home. It was akin to the father's crazed leg lamp ordeal, though a bit more tasteful (pun intended). There was a coup at the local movie theater when the mothers found out the grocery store who had run the scam held no intention of giving them the last and final piece--a gravy boat. For me, this is brilliant writing. The best. <i>A Christmas Story</i> only shows a hint of Shepherd's storytelling. </p><p>Recently I caught a new addition to the franchise, a movie based on a now adult Ralphie--wife, kids and all--who comes home after his father's passing. At Christmas, of course. All the familiar faces are there, and some of the same schtick, but it works. I like the idea of seeing Jean Shepherd on film, even if it's a bit glossed over. He did <i>not </i>have a perfect adulthood. What is perfect though, is the sentiment they capture in <i>A Christmas Story Christmas. </i>It makes you feel all the same happy feelings from the original, like you came home again. What's really uncanny is the voice--adult Ralphie (Peter Billingsley) narrated not by the (sadly) deceased Jean Shepherd, no, it's . . . Ralphie. He sounds <i>just </i>like Shepherd. I can hear my mother say, "Hey, isn't that so-and-so from the original?" Yes, Mother, you're right. It <i>is</i>." Though, it's not. It's the kid. But it's such a close timber I want to believe . . .</p><p>I'd love to see them make another movie about Jean Shepherd amid his Playboy days interviewing the likes of The Beatles and Rolling Stones. Wouldn't that be great? I hope they get on it. I triple-dog-dare them.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-44260655726349594592022-12-12T12:38:00.006-08:002022-12-12T12:46:15.470-08:00Do you or don't you?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcNe5vusPUFBynWfyLqV6DgylAChHYVt_c9TDDKko4Uw4fyTcV0YDffDNv1hWabAdWuEyRfvA0HnXFT9dJPQdAz4ma482l7GpqD-L0Ps4PrcY1RSartWx01jXvBKCX26G20JhyxE3P9Qc01rofETyGa6eP9lehtdB0n42GAYm6jcAtb-Zcqzhz61sD/s287/fruitcake.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="287" data-original-width="203" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcNe5vusPUFBynWfyLqV6DgylAChHYVt_c9TDDKko4Uw4fyTcV0YDffDNv1hWabAdWuEyRfvA0HnXFT9dJPQdAz4ma482l7GpqD-L0Ps4PrcY1RSartWx01jXvBKCX26G20JhyxE3P9Qc01rofETyGa6eP9lehtdB0n42GAYm6jcAtb-Zcqzhz61sD/w283-h400/fruitcake.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">This is serious, do you love fruitcake or don't you? It's a yanni/laurel type of thing, this. You either love the crumbly packed full of nuts and dried fruits loaf or you don't. Well? Okay, I love it. Don't tell anyone, but every year around this time I go a bit nutty and fruity for the dessert (?). I guess . . . you could call it that. A dessert? The Romans ate it for energy pre-battle like Popeye ate spinach before busting Brutus' obnoxious ass, so I guess to them it was more of a power up, Mario style. Not a dessert. Rum must have changed that. Aye, matey. Hand me that spiced fruit sweet rock before the scurvy hits. But then, there are real reasons to have it around. Rat killer. Free doorstop. How did this start up again? Romans . . . </span></div><p></p><p>Can't remember the first time I tasted fruitcake, but it was probably at a family dinner and when I saw it alone among the puddings and pies I felt some kin of sympathy. I'll try you, I said, then willed my young buds to muster excitement. You're not weird or oddly shaped. There I stood in deep consternation a tall, wiry and freckled auburn-haired teenager still with a Hail Mary on her lips. Let's be honest, if you've already forced yourself to eat the Brussel sprouts, fruitcake isn't that far behind. Anyway, I tried it, and *secretly* went a little wild. Why wasn't anyone gobbling this stuff up like Dan Akroyd sniffing cocaine at SNL second season? The Irish lass in me was aghast and confused. Memories came to the surface--memories of a past life and many hardships. Mashed or fried--loam that is. Hey, fruitcake ain't that bad. But the others . . . seemed to prefer the more obnoxious whipped cream covered cheesecake--sort of a blasé option if you asked me. Boring. Trite. The whole thing was mysterious . . . </p><p>Well, I've never been like the rest, I thought while shoveling it in. </p><p>So there I sat while the others nursed their heart-stopping dairy confectionary and I thought, how can one get back to a buffet without being noticed? Surely, they were all too sauced to care but alas my return sojourn brought ire and much cachinnation: "Look at <i>Amy</i>, she likes <i>fruitcake</i>." Oh, God. The shame. </p><p>As many others, I went into the fruitcake closet (a good place to hide and consume) and suffocated my appetite to a once-yearly limit. Which is good, because that's the only time it's available. By the way, there's mince pie, rum cake, plum pudding . . . Then came an obsession of consuming it with every <i>Christmas Carol</i> adaptation known to man. Let's see . . . musical or theatrical? Alistiar Sim or Albert Finney . . . Surely, this is okay and <i>perfectly </i>normal. </p><p>You, uh, haven't answered yet. Do you like fruitcake, or don't you? No, no . . . really . . . it's okay. I understand (wink). You <i>don't </i>to have to say. Some things are better left known only by the strong rum, butter and candied fruit vapor coming from your face orifice. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><p></p></blockquote><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-19144312144603607042022-12-06T09:25:00.005-08:002022-12-06T09:25:46.717-08:00John Lennon's spirit as it has appeared to me--just a few pictures.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzcho9OUVOmX1w9V1q2wMyEClykqx1fWOrcdb20c82Wc5TqQzTpedi82pJZz6KXvQRpZNO5gUPaD1vzv85klQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-33850279803267237672022-11-15T12:40:00.030-08:002022-11-16T12:01:33.003-08:00Top Ten Spiritual Truths About John Lennon<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Vi8R944zFjyrsb_KC2xb7VZL2wvtESD6eZsmoIKa2_ybHyA4BZSrtZeCZ29PRAsjwVg4QtZcdqCVvGrxM3672fAR4EoGkqTPG-yvrthbQAZbZnhvyAMd5hZYngWUdQHbdMklW4qSzWuUBP_TjKC1fo6MoOCVLnIY2B4_nw5CUDmGxST5U7MYLsEF/s924/ajohnwhim.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="473" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Vi8R944zFjyrsb_KC2xb7VZL2wvtESD6eZsmoIKa2_ybHyA4BZSrtZeCZ29PRAsjwVg4QtZcdqCVvGrxM3672fAR4EoGkqTPG-yvrthbQAZbZnhvyAMd5hZYngWUdQHbdMklW4qSzWuUBP_TjKC1fo6MoOCVLnIY2B4_nw5CUDmGxST5U7MYLsEF/w205-h400/ajohnwhim.jpg" width="205" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He
isn’t dead. While John may have been slain the night of December 8, 1980,
and his body put to rest away from this earthly realm, his spirit lives on brilliantly.
Many have claimed to have been contacted by him via intuition for messages that
affect not only their personal lives but that of current society as well. He
has also manifested (many, many times) in a visual way—not ghostly but “spiritually.”
His favorite forms to visit come through clouds, birds, synchronicities, etc.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He
is still evolving. The truth is, though we may have all been told that we go to
Heaven or Hell once we die, our eternal life isn’t such a black and white
existence. Once our physical body is gone, our soul/spirit lives on in an
energetic way, and just as we grew and learned on earth, we still do on the
other side. In fact, our soul keeps expanding in order to survive. Much like a
black hole, soul stagnation is death. The real death. So, John keeps expanding
and learning, one reason he doesn't wish to be brought down to any darkness or karma of his past life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He
had many, many lives before being born into the sometimes painful, many times
fantastic Beatle existence. He was a pharaoh (scarab on the heart . . . scarab=beetle . . . eternal life and love), a prophet, a minstrel, a painter,
a knight . . . and more. Usually with an incredibly concentrated yet simplistic
message, and always a rebel against society. His rebellious nature has helped
others learn autonomy and attain soul growth. His biggest message was of
non-attachment to material objects, to believe in the unknown yet live for NOW, and to love one
another. It all came to a great pinnacle as John Lennon where he became a Romeo
to many female (and male) fans who then went on to impact the world with their
own non-war messages. He couldn’t have affected this change without romantically
impacting so many. His message went straight into the heart and evolved there
in many ways through each willing recipient.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Though
he has personal attachments to family, friends, he also works as an ascended master to many on the spiritual
path. He comes though light with a high message of peace. These people are meant to help carry his message, which is universal. John is a Starseed and travels far and wide. He and others have no desire for people on earth to destroy the rest of the galaxy with pollution, hate, greed, and ego. We are all connected, that's his biggest message. We're all one. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He
has written many songs through known and unknown musicians. He finds this
medium to be the most relevant and effective as music goes straight into the
heart center. One of the most famous tunes he wrote from the other side was “Karma
Police” with Thom Yorke of the band Radiohead, who ironically (or not ironically)
signed with Parlophone, the same label The Beatles used when they signed with George
Martin at EMI. Nothing is a coincidence. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">John
was psychic in his life and though he tried telling people about his weird
experiences, they often tucked it off as crazy or drug-related. He had keen
intuition and insight into people’s psyche, yet often he brushed it off in an
unwillingness to pre-judge as he’d been judged in his own life. In other words,
he shut off his gift in order to be nice, but it often hurt him in the end. He
did sense something was off with the young man who shot him but he wanted to
give him the benefit of the doubt. He says it didn’t have to be his fate to die
that night in December, but being codependent led him to a place of surrender.
And once he was on the other side, he saw that had he lived he would have had
to make a lot of choices that would hurt others yet benefitted him. He would
have chosen to stay and deal with this, but it also meant denying the world a
huge lesson about non-violence. His murder touched so many and taught them to
abhor violence in every way. It made them want to find outlets to deal with war
and all conflict on a more coexistent level. From the vantage of spirit, he saw
that they needed this transformation through his passing and that the effect
and message would be diluted had he lived. Another factor is he might have
lived as a non-verbal, paraplegic dependent on others to care for him. More codependency,
and very, very difficult to break out of. That lesson was passed onto Christopher Reeves who used it in a way that was more relevant and touching on a soul level. John's message was about Peace.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">His
mother Julia, who was killed by a drunk, off-duty police officer, met him on the other side almost instantly, and it was pure bliss
to see her again. Their reunion made him want to stay in Heaven, though he did
think about those he would be leaving on earth. It was a hard choice, but in
the end he took the route that would provide the biggest lesson to humanity—non-violence. Staying on earth might not provide such an extreme emotional reaction to a public figure's death. It was almost the completion of a cycle which had started with JFK, RFK and Martin Luther King, Jr. John Lennon was part of the circle of beloved figures who touched people on a deep, personal level. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">8.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He
doesn’t advocate drugs from the other side, nor does he judge those who them.
LSD opened him to his true self and helped others do the same, so he does not
regret using it or any other drugs, though heroin was quite awful, and he would
not choose to imbibe in that again. But he does see now that there are many ways
we can tune in and come together naturally—one being meditation, the other is
mindfulness. Nature as well is very healing, and he wants us to find peace and
bliss there. Music too, is like a beautiful salve for us to escape and connect
on a deeper level. The effect drugs give is transitory, and the problem is you
have to keep using them to attain that same bliss or high. Eventually it
backfires and you are the opposite: low. The energy of spirit (and love) is high.
You don’t want to continually dilute a true high with drugs. Plus, it takes you
away from your problems and the pure connection you have with those you love
here on earth. Again, no judgement. But meditation, music and mindfulness are much
better and more effective overall. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">9.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He
loves that he was in The Beatles, though it ‘got hairy’ at times and he felt
like a caged animal amidst all the fame, false expectations and toxic glory.
But what they accomplished on an artistic, societal and heart level was remarkable.
He still loves his bandmates and cheers them on. They know when he’s around and recognize all the things he does to send them love and encouragement. Yes, he visits and gives
lyrics and melodies and love. They know. We were brothers, he says. And we
bloody always will be. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">10.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">More
than anything, he wants us to learn how to maintain peace on the planet. If you
think of him in any way, think of peace and love. They aren’t dirty words—they’re
gold. They mean everything, and now more than ever these values are needed. You
want a good society? Love each other. You want clean air? Love each other. You
want no more war? Love each other. It’s real simple, folks. That’s all you
gotta do. Just love each other—doing so keeps me alive. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">John is alive in all of
us. It sounds presumptuous, but it’s true. Laugh, have fun, make love, work,
dance, sing, play rock n roll, and create peace. That’s all you gotta do to
honor my name and keep me around.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Pictures I've taken of John in spirit.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ystZsey26Gvf6JsDY_UBxKWfSlIBetZIxnsJRjJv5ciTNmUWpbN039o5XIXhMVta1lMVnStUarekVZdVPu8RX3FuxWbVBIzfXHVQCaNuUpBb085kYc14aNHmUZJjJn6jFTU6_ohdlqkZxBTBJ1d4uqYQNn0astwGVo49_NppolIGZ4-fikUSKntE/s1639/johncarpet2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1639" data-original-width="1118" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ystZsey26Gvf6JsDY_UBxKWfSlIBetZIxnsJRjJv5ciTNmUWpbN039o5XIXhMVta1lMVnStUarekVZdVPu8RX3FuxWbVBIzfXHVQCaNuUpBb085kYc14aNHmUZJjJn6jFTU6_ohdlqkZxBTBJ1d4uqYQNn0astwGVo49_NppolIGZ4-fikUSKntE/s320/johncarpet2.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;" /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOhIPfYtO6WxRr4FUyVpG6gLe-AxTbaX_ATbiPj30Mlz9mRr_li2oNYmY6jIq6gLLQZM1P9_MWOZWIA9XxbmvOn1ax-h5mzVtUHXIL9B0XHJ4cJfq_O573YPB2rjF5a7RwJ6inX7PyGgGmtEK6_wWhh32z1asJ_FCqq1I7_l0qEkyEQ1Xeaw0mndG/s2592/ajohnvic1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOhIPfYtO6WxRr4FUyVpG6gLe-AxTbaX_ATbiPj30Mlz9mRr_li2oNYmY6jIq6gLLQZM1P9_MWOZWIA9XxbmvOn1ax-h5mzVtUHXIL9B0XHJ4cJfq_O573YPB2rjF5a7RwJ6inX7PyGgGmtEK6_wWhh32z1asJ_FCqq1I7_l0qEkyEQ1Xeaw0mndG/s320/ajohnvic1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;" /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSTXjtPpyYSPzJ1LX13q3UzHS619-Kzfnb_3Y2pAoS-uv7_bLKUyo3iAfKmxtOlHtPseBFU766Iykbb9o4npGB5mXv9h6Svn15jAtXutV9J_iPr5BSZfJTNpE6rcyMZyNfUV-3_CfYl8_XGbGQ212P5Bguk6C3bcNZT37oybSrz_HpLDmq9ksSPQr/s1105/johnwindow9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1105" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSTXjtPpyYSPzJ1LX13q3UzHS619-Kzfnb_3Y2pAoS-uv7_bLKUyo3iAfKmxtOlHtPseBFU766Iykbb9o4npGB5mXv9h6Svn15jAtXutV9J_iPr5BSZfJTNpE6rcyMZyNfUV-3_CfYl8_XGbGQ212P5Bguk6C3bcNZT37oybSrz_HpLDmq9ksSPQr/s320/johnwindow9.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;" /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENs_eAg-DjLNk70Km4xqBpd-A4cet4kUX8ZnjqeX5yXzcJ1UM2I82cEW1TWFu3yWuXZskVBiLaDGoRfX8bxB38HZcTWxqNpei_60Gm1HG9UKrFYzW7oeyqqAEKlPJRh8iuZBGSzI6-PbAGQsOui2ss_u9unZJva8IzRdzEsajeZ-XFeyx4lhmB6kD/s4032/ajohndark6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENs_eAg-DjLNk70Km4xqBpd-A4cet4kUX8ZnjqeX5yXzcJ1UM2I82cEW1TWFu3yWuXZskVBiLaDGoRfX8bxB38HZcTWxqNpei_60Gm1HG9UKrFYzW7oeyqqAEKlPJRh8iuZBGSzI6-PbAGQsOui2ss_u9unZJva8IzRdzEsajeZ-XFeyx4lhmB6kD/s320/ajohndark6.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;" /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM9g1OGe1nWw8DZhu4loSlFxus165ZaOh-CRjzNlozYQKY2c7D8yzYXPP3QDbDXKP5REbqhuUiaLwoxMwrHhIaPDFn6pMCLrvtb7Vpqm81dk9ZJR3KQ4GD0Dre4vBvVAzmGExknlyq0qkogchDYE60RpMovtGMerDsnwOo_crvNrJkyTMYt_888fpM/s1393/johnleaf1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1393" data-original-width="1124" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM9g1OGe1nWw8DZhu4loSlFxus165ZaOh-CRjzNlozYQKY2c7D8yzYXPP3QDbDXKP5REbqhuUiaLwoxMwrHhIaPDFn6pMCLrvtb7Vpqm81dk9ZJR3KQ4GD0Dre4vBvVAzmGExknlyq0qkogchDYE60RpMovtGMerDsnwOo_crvNrJkyTMYt_888fpM/s320/johnleaf1.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;" /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Q6bIpTMLNIeU_aOfdavuLgwk-c_iCt5oNH7JBCyn0djZoIgNF_mnEL--9X8BZ_52poHjDk1x-SKZyHnMRpSE2LmnoNGqVMBzRImuexqRv8ojn1JjPJa072Ma56CJRRl-2wRvgIIZFOPlIzRtfu4XcexFMhzWVxHXjJCxQkBWoqVZAqI-l_IxYTMv/s1779/JOhnspiritinthesky3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1779" data-original-width="1121" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Q6bIpTMLNIeU_aOfdavuLgwk-c_iCt5oNH7JBCyn0djZoIgNF_mnEL--9X8BZ_52poHjDk1x-SKZyHnMRpSE2LmnoNGqVMBzRImuexqRv8ojn1JjPJa072Ma56CJRRl-2wRvgIIZFOPlIzRtfu4XcexFMhzWVxHXjJCxQkBWoqVZAqI-l_IxYTMv/s320/JOhnspiritinthesky3.jpg" width="202" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;" /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3Pbh1TzazVNGAauMDL81byojPiNSSI_19c5pobYZCJe7MHaNbMa5wkclEHDlWcA4AAHxhfcOMy35hh4MzT7YyUcoYJivcjOzssIcmPfrznhLUYGO33qnQRzhD6ZrkLhikoTn81Jf59NRXOFa58IALXC0UvjlAkyJpuUxie--IuSCmIZ5oVyXce1Q/s1810/john%20bookshelf1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1810" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3Pbh1TzazVNGAauMDL81byojPiNSSI_19c5pobYZCJe7MHaNbMa5wkclEHDlWcA4AAHxhfcOMy35hh4MzT7YyUcoYJivcjOzssIcmPfrznhLUYGO33qnQRzhD6ZrkLhikoTn81Jf59NRXOFa58IALXC0UvjlAkyJpuUxie--IuSCmIZ5oVyXce1Q/s320/john%20bookshelf1.jpg" width="199" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;" /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2aWZ2xP9YhWI8cnyE5VLOHm8IFZ0nwaw74ynYn0QJEXG0_ihyXcPEpHSIHWs3-Ac1tVYSMZyYZH_yq6hFEEXa9ZKMFGTR9r1_DPkfXPVOhMTUMy4UsGu_lUTxCLnmwkhmB7SUf88w1PtbVvUiPfj81ijuo6Cjfc5R4PW1rOvUeCOMC6Fj8Iy5KVMJ/s4032/ajohncurtainlateaugust.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2aWZ2xP9YhWI8cnyE5VLOHm8IFZ0nwaw74ynYn0QJEXG0_ihyXcPEpHSIHWs3-Ac1tVYSMZyYZH_yq6hFEEXa9ZKMFGTR9r1_DPkfXPVOhMTUMy4UsGu_lUTxCLnmwkhmB7SUf88w1PtbVvUiPfj81ijuo6Cjfc5R4PW1rOvUeCOMC6Fj8Iy5KVMJ/s320/ajohncurtainlateaugust.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;" /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYT8ifV1IMHP4Z5Z4M1cts84msku1J3Fk31OXK5K0bPCt2fVCM1YDDHOH_zwcisLZiDd66xNm0qZlK5p_JYNo1OFXjelW00wvydVxzvJvm5pJyxCF875DfO1GNOGepNNFEYTXc9MySjKWFpAWPXSVgUTLwKd-QjxBa5tP66kRLiXMK4GoCUnnuu2KK/s320/john%20dresser.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYT8ifV1IMHP4Z5Z4M1cts84msku1J3Fk31OXK5K0bPCt2fVCM1YDDHOH_zwcisLZiDd66xNm0qZlK5p_JYNo1OFXjelW00wvydVxzvJvm5pJyxCF875DfO1GNOGepNNFEYTXc9MySjKWFpAWPXSVgUTLwKd-QjxBa5tP66kRLiXMK4GoCUnnuu2KK/s1600/john%20dresser.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;" /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WYLICAqoAB3_ZkZrGarD4M7g1wMCnxB2-36_OYp-7NqoJonh9M_FckjPDuJcm3ib8vumPhGD1bwohV4FjZ5sxau1_qwr1b1QMJXiJboDk8mjQF1oRo-y4Yi5x-MCwQ1ZxY3sWk-LS_SpLbAskvB3mhEPSjM1nScfdx4F8vAHM4oRdcp_nsYA4211/s1501/Book%20John%20pensive.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1501" data-original-width="1114" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3WYLICAqoAB3_ZkZrGarD4M7g1wMCnxB2-36_OYp-7NqoJonh9M_FckjPDuJcm3ib8vumPhGD1bwohV4FjZ5sxau1_qwr1b1QMJXiJboDk8mjQF1oRo-y4Yi5x-MCwQ1ZxY3sWk-LS_SpLbAskvB3mhEPSjM1nScfdx4F8vAHM4oRdcp_nsYA4211/s320/Book%20John%20pensive.JPG" width="237" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-24968443640784103342022-11-11T09:48:00.003-08:002022-11-11T09:48:31.750-08:00Oh my, Musk<p>Musk says he's going bankrupt with tw*tter, and honestly, it's not a surprise but we're talking 44 billion. Do you know how many homeless, hungry, sick could have been helped with that money? Or how about puppies for kids? Parades for veterans (Happy Veteran's Day, btw) or maybe a spa day for cancer patients?</p><p>That has to be the fastest money bleed known in history. And why? Why . . .</p><p>Well, you know how I feel. I think the whole thing went down right before the Midterms on purpose and now that they're over, well, he doesn't need tw*tter anymore. Poof. He's done.</p><p>He probably thought he'd have fun with the $8 blowhard blue check scheme only to watch it explode like an entire fireworks display on the 4th. People were buying the blue checks with false accounts then spoofing high profilers who had earned their checks previously. Like I said, the star-bellied <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sneetches-Other-Stories-Dr-Seuss/dp/0394800893/ref=asc_df_0394800893?tag=bingshoppinga-20&linkCode=df0&hvadid=80607997944822&hvnetw=o&hvqmt=e&hvbmt=be&hvdev=c&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=&hvtargid=pla-4584207577495866&psc=1">Sneeches </a>didn't know whose belly had stars from the start. Total romper room chaos, and he is the babysitter. </p><p>Pretty sure he's out of here and going back to Starlink because . . . he's selling Tesla stock too. Hmm. </p><p>Look, I don't mean to get on the guy every darn day, but let's face it, he does some fairly SUS shite and I don't like it (or him) at all. He didn't even invent Tesla. That was another one of his purchases. </p><p>What do you think of, um, M*sk? Be nice and don't cuss too much. </p><p>*these are only my opinions and not fact. the above is for entertainments purposes only*</p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-68460802495042521882022-11-10T08:24:00.002-08:002022-11-10T08:24:23.278-08:00It's all good<p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IPxrIwKMpy155gxX8PqXvypxdctQi0cTy3OI1WnDw2WaY0ljXao1hZwZpRsd1n4ZXgB1lBfXvrbycbenWzDlef5ZX2qSv0-hv641X-936l1lzvIlOOPGuC0mhzeKyqCacv9k_vUxFGbPaKOaKqgCGKS0s6IaMl7qzAOt0a1ed654836lQzcxG1LN/s2341/amy-shamblen-lJt-3NUFng4-unsplash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2341" data-original-width="2341" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IPxrIwKMpy155gxX8PqXvypxdctQi0cTy3OI1WnDw2WaY0ljXao1hZwZpRsd1n4ZXgB1lBfXvrbycbenWzDlef5ZX2qSv0-hv641X-936l1lzvIlOOPGuC0mhzeKyqCacv9k_vUxFGbPaKOaKqgCGKS0s6IaMl7qzAOt0a1ed654836lQzcxG1LN/w400-h400/amy-shamblen-lJt-3NUFng4-unsplash.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">https://unsplash.com/photos/lJt-3NUFng4?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditShareLink</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Many are sad here in the US that we did not have a blue wave or that the Robert Kennedy-ish Beto O'Rourke and amazing, strong Stacey Abrams did not win their states, however I think what we are seeing is actually really, really good (though I am truly let down they did not win). Tr*mp's picks, which toured the land with Q music and all sorts of strange antics like blood-red lighting and crazy fireworks, LOST. Now he is the uncool kid at school--everyone is calling him out and telling him not to run in 2024. He's lost his power. He's bellbottoms in 1985. Even if a few of his picks get in, they will turn from his influence and go to the winning side. And as for us blue folk, we gained seats and also have independent newbies who will be allies. That's a huge relief. So, I am not crying, I'm actually super thrilled about these events and what they mean not only for democracy but for certain document stealing ex-presidents to be held accountable at long last. </p><p>It's like, you can cry over not getting a white cake with yellow flowers, but what's the use if it's a yellow cake with white flowers? You still have cake. It's still good. </p><p>Let's enjoy the cake and not shed any tears. Things look good.</p><p><br /></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6317808419889516476.post-66283590086169443962022-11-04T10:00:00.009-07:002022-11-04T10:06:39.338-07:00Musk we?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2F2fBxEXWZaMvNcsjIiA6eVKHVJ7Jns0SkeXqHDVVxs5DoBpqzFH2n5LnDmE4W_-3pFZeh_eoJD-cwtmY63e5WSwhXurTIyd4vzIHR-BMqCF0gERqEF2NMi8UT2447d5D9vVeEkadnLb5rJFcLSpJBGzQfQHjyI5hMbTUts1-giIPLp1vNXKAbuFt/s3888/engin-akyurt-l1clu1ZKjSw-unsplash.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="2592" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2F2fBxEXWZaMvNcsjIiA6eVKHVJ7Jns0SkeXqHDVVxs5DoBpqzFH2n5LnDmE4W_-3pFZeh_eoJD-cwtmY63e5WSwhXurTIyd4vzIHR-BMqCF0gERqEF2NMi8UT2447d5D9vVeEkadnLb5rJFcLSpJBGzQfQHjyI5hMbTUts1-giIPLp1vNXKAbuFt/w266-h400/engin-akyurt-l1clu1ZKjSw-unsplash.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">https://unsplash.com/photos/l1clu1ZKjSw?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditShareLink</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>As soon as Elon M*sk began saying he'd buy twitter I logged off. Then when it looked like he wouldn't be able to, I came back. That meant losing my list of followers and having to start all over again. But I don't breathe the same air as fascists or use the same social media. It was easy to see what the outcome would be if he bought the app--and indeed my fears were correct: I saw Musk allowing hate speech (not free speech) to take over. From what I've heard it happened instantly. </p><p>Here's what gets me, and I've probably written this exact same thing but bear with me, WHO allowed him to buy Twitter, WHO gave him the money, WHY was he allowed to do it? My guesses: money-hungry losers, R*ssia/S*udi/Ch*na, money. </p><p>Musk was on my radar back before P*tin invaded Ukraine. I saw that he was about to do something and began alerting everyone, but no one listened. When he offered Ukraine the use of his Starlink satellites, I got a bad feeling and went on *twitter* saying, "DON'T USE STARLINK--if you do it will find your location and P*tin will use this information." Indeed, time after time groups of people inside apartment buildings, hospitals and schools were blown up. Now, did Musk know this? Or was he/is he being used by nefarious forces? His track record of abuse and bullish ways tells me that doesn't matter--what matters is he isn't to be trusted. </p><p>Disclaimer--the above was my intuitive opinion. </p><p>When he admitted he works with R*ssia and got in trouble for it, he backtracked and went on a new revenge to buy Twitter. And it happened. Then he lets antisemitic K*nye back on (who started a GOFUNDME to get his 1 billion status back--good luck). M*sk doesn't really care about twitter, or you or me. He wants money and control. He doesn't like the word no and will do stupid, foolish things out of revenge. He's a tool for the GOP. Twitter will go down the sink and all that money too.</p><p>The White House and President Biden used Twitter and that's where I see this all as an act of war against Democracy right before the midterms, just like DeJoy was used (and is still being used) to slow down the post office. Wouldn't want those darn paper ballots to get counted in time--but guess what? All ballots are paper ballots. Duh. People, if you are mailing or dropping one off at a box write the date in bold letters on the envelope. Check your voting location. Be wise. Every vote counts-- especially yours.</p><p>They are saying the red meanies are ahead--but that's because they polled Betty in the middle of nowhere MIDWEST, USA. Betty answered he landline because she thought it was Paula calling about the church dinner. The polls aren't accurate, but the massive number of pre-ballots are. Still, vote. </p><p>What if it does come down to a 100 vote difference for your candidate? That means you truly do make a difference. Andy Warhol said every person has five minutes of fame, well, maybe this is yours. Get out there and do it. </p><p>Lastly, they are saying things like, "Tiffany doesn't care about abortion rights, she cares about how expensive everything is!" Wrong. Tiffany cares about herself, her mother, her sister, her daughter, her neighbor, etc. And despite what Tiffany has told you, she's going to vote the way she feels. She's voting for women in America. Don't f*ck with Tiffany. Get out of the way and let her vote.</p><p>People have died in wars so we can vote. Never forget that. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Amy Saiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00346366018143891761noreply@blogger.com0