Words with Friends

“What the f—? You’re kidding me!”

She sits on the curb outside The Purity. She’s so deeply involved in pressing buttons on and talking to her smart phone that she appears to forget she’s holding a burning cigarette. When she takes a drag, she makes it meaningful, tugging it all the way down to her toes. She’s also chewing gum.

“Oh man!”https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS-DaM2W6Fiq2YHYB8USQfrqdH5lCEEA7PgwJB6trIiaikslwn9

She’s a skinny little thing in her mid-90’s—or maybe she’s my age. It’s hard to tell.

She looks like a troll doll left under a pile of leaves for the winter and found after the spring thaw. Like a troll doll, there’s a cute quality to her face.

“Damnit!”

I wonder why she’s sitting on the curb with the pant legs of her jeans hiked up to reveal white anklets and tan Keds sneakers. It’s too dreary and cold to be sitting outside.

Maybe she’s waiting for someone. In the meantime, maybe she’s playing Words with Friends.

“Jesus Christ!”

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