Cross-legged, she on the pavement dumps her Prada bag, a white half moon of nonsequiturs.
Tampon.
Lipstick.
Receipts.
Cigarettes.
Lighter.
Brush.
Yesterday’s gum wad tissue wrapped.
Like an amnesiac, she sees everything, recognizing nothing. He smirks,
Watching over her like flies.
“I am not an idiot.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“You are a fool.”
Car door slam. Engine revs. Tires scream! Hey, did you hear there was an earthquake in California?
In Seattle, news said a man stole a monstrous SUV, led police on a high-speed chase, slamming two cars. Quiet falls on a full moon.
Her cigarette burns just outside the window.
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