When Carol slung her beaded velvet scarf about her neck to get into character for her role, it skimmed the top of her mocha, and caused scalding liquid to flee onto the uniform of a new waitress, whose eyes watered since the poor girl feared losing another job, so Carol ordered a demitasse, not only to appease the new job gods but also the woman's, and to conjure Karma so the New York Times reviewer sent to observe her show in an hour would see her true splendor.
The terminal was just the place for Angie to work her new lipstick, called Echo because of how it followed those who admired her, big luscious lips gunning down the railways after men, making them reconsider, passionate to return to her in the way that she desired, especially after she drew a big, delicious anagram, scarlet letters, on one of the cars, Subway Glean.
Sam admired the liquid amber tree, further reddened by the sunset and leashed by roots so a bombastic wind couldn't throw it over the cliffs. After Belinda left, he too felt the need to be reined so he wouldn't fall in, pushed by some mysterious squall.
Bonnie ZoBell has received an NEA Creative Writing Fellowship, a PEN Syndicated Fiction Award, and the Capricorn Novel Award. Recently included on Wigleaf's 2009 Top 50 list for very short fiction, she has work included or forthcoming in American Fiction, The Bellingham Review, The Greensboro Review, SmokeLong Quarterly, Elimae, and Word Riot. She received an MFA from Columbia, teaches at San Diego Mesa College, and can be reached at www.bonniezobell.com.