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.