She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. I'm going through his pockets. He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face. One or the other. It’s not like we’re getting married. The freezing water reached her chin and she felt the heat of her body dispersing, creating a disappearing patch of warmth as her limbs froze. Thank him, not me, man. They shall hear of me no more. She even hit the jackpot in 1952 when she found a photograph in a London issue of Vogue. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times.
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