I l left work early. I got some money from the bank, cash from a teller, not automatic. I smiled understandingly at her tripping over words when she noticed my tattoos.
The door . . . what door. I don’t remember where I was going with that?
This door. A car door, the door to the bank. There we go.
There was an old, cute, couple walking out of the bank branch as I was walking in. The gentleman complimented me on my tattoo, asked where I’d gotten it. Showed me his, told me about Spiral Tattoo on Packard. I told him I’d check it out some time and said my goodbyes.
It’s windier than usual today, which is awesome.
And the theatre is quiet, deserted but for me and the workers.
And then the curvy, black girl walks in.