Rebellion in long black
boots and Paper Mate flare
ink. Are those hearts 

on the cap clip—a branding
she wouldn’t trust? Never
bother with a steady pace. No grace 

in her stride toward another
pair of male arms. It hurts her
more than they would imagine. 

One person household, an apartment
number she recites
over the noise of a question 

about a parking voucher
she’s entitled to. She’ll answer
the next one—tightlipped for now.