I. Can’t. Talk.

The spew was rolling along my palate when the elevator stopped at the third floor. The door opened and in walked an elegant, mid-twenties woman, someone I could envision cutting ceremonial ribbons at an important event. She pressed a button, settled in one corner, and after checking her bouffant on the mirror, turned to me.

“My goodness, it’s so hot outside, no?” … More I. Can’t. Talk.

Fun Run

“Yeah, but I think this is better for both of us.” Ms. Vulture said, her eyeballs performing a double axle, triple lutz, triple
loop combo of sarcasm. … More Fun Run