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She had her back to the glass window of a cheap Chinese restaurant. When she saw me cross the street she yelled


and tossed her Pentax to me from about 10 feet away (I appreciate the trust, but seriously!).

Stay right there...yep, there-now shoot!

She turned her shoulders to one side so her face caught the blue and red of the neon OPEN sign. It was a little funny because she had written the word CLOSED on her cheek with a black marker. She loved this kind of stuff.

She wouldn't stand for me to say it but she is petite. Small enough to go and buy a Josie and the pussycats poncho at a kids store and have it hang off her. Small enough that she always has to hold the camera with two hands, 'cause otherwise she drops it (which she has done, several times). She has hairline short dark hair and paints her left hand with bright nail colors and leaves the right set bare and bitten.

"What's it mean?" I ask-pointing to her cheek. We are inside now and she is trying to rub off the marker with her red napkin dipped in lukewarm tea.
I dunno, maybe that I don't know if I am ready for stuff, I'm trying to decide if I am open; accessible.
"Ha, you are certainly open to anything, but you aren't exactly a swinging door of insight."
She winks at me and grabs one of my knees under the table-You turn me though, You're my revolver, aren't you?

She kills me.

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