hmm
“That guy stole my camo hoodie and threw it out the damn window, I just spat some and went inside to take a shit.”
The Sears Tower is now known as the Willis Tower. My aunt looked up at the vaulting rectangles and it made me think of Fountainhead, “the Japanese bought it up I’m sure.”
My other aunt agreed.
“I thought it was the British.”
“Maybe both, they hate us equally.”
Bianca’s friend Michel, equally sharp-faced and equally French joined her at the desk this morning. She was red haired and wore an unbuttoned jacket, a space between her teeth. Someone leaned over and reminded me of her dental predicament while she was away, like they had found out Michel’s secret.
I hardly knew her, her name and- her name, and I defended her. I almost ran up the stairs again, held my tongue and bought a soda so I could shake it up and throw it in the washers on the top floor, stain their blouses orange.
That’ll teach them to make fun of the receptionist’s friend with the deep hair and crevassed body. Big holes all over her skin and eyes.
The picture I didn’t take: A man, camouflage jacket hanging from one shoulder, walking away from his wife, dead-eyed and sagging with the weight of everything, into the dark depths of a bathroom with lights burnt out. The rest of the world walks past, making love to their hand-helds.
