Librarian eyes that sparkle when you’re sure of something.Hair you tuck behind your ear.A mouth built for telling the truth and ruining men who ask for it.
Lindy Girl:
I don’t ruin men.I’ve never been that confident.
You’ve ruined men, even if you don’t know it.
Lindy Girl:
I’m adding…you wear a watch you don’t need, just to feel the weight.You smell like trouble.
What scent is trouble?
Lindy Girl:
Ummm, earthy?
I laugh sharp, unguarded, and it startles me.I can’t remember the last time I heard my own laugh.
You smell like paper and strawberries.I hope it’s strawberries.
I pocket the phone and walk back into the conference room.Control is a muscle.I can never lose it.Never let it relax.Everything in my life balances on my ability to stay in control.Let it slack, things break.The timer resets.Thirty minutes at a time, I’ll keep the leash tight.
When my phone buzzes in my pocket I pull it out, stop the alarm and text her.
What was your first impression of Vegas?Three words.
Lindy Girl:
Loud.Glittering.Lonely.
I grew up here.To me it’s always owed, watching, alive.
I set the phone face-down and let the timer start again.
The timer chirps.I thumb the phone open and type.
Tell me one good thing about today, Lindy girl.
The dots appear.Disappear.Come back.
Lindy Girl:
I drove myself to work.
I tap the knife under my suit jacket.One, two, three.
I’m proud of you.
I let the timer run.Thirty minutes.I can wait.
Until I can’t.
four
I start livingmy life in thirty-minute increments.
Lindy Girl:
