The new girl on the back of the motorcycle wears glasses, and has short hair, and a plain, sweet face, and was reading pages behind her boy, turning pages, reading behind him as he drove. Go girl on the back of the motorcycle, go. Oh I wish, I wish, I wish I was the girl on the back of the motorcycle. I will try to keep my wild, wanton heart in check.
I can taste the egg in the sugar cookie.
The bakers’ assistants, girl and boy, converse about the customers.
She: Those two always come late, and always ask for free stuff, day old bread, and always take the paper.
He: People take the paper. I’ve seen them.
She: People take the sections they want to read. Those two take the whole paper. It’s expensive, the paper.
I wonder what they say about me.
She: She always comes alone, that one, and sits in the sun, and wears something ridiculous, like a dress over jeans.
He: What is she writing in that book of hers?
What IS she writing in that book of hers?