Tentative fingers and solemn attention as she plays a two-handed piece on the keyboard.
Blue shells, brown leaves and a star-shaped badge with a rusted pin.
A hardheaded waitress serves clam chowder to one, fried chicken and a heap of pasta to another. Raises her eyebrow as she hands me my meal, an iced tea.
His car smells like cake air freshener and newsprint. Magazines slide around under my feet as he drives.
A hole has torn open in the clouds. Light soft as talc sifts down to a bare tree by the water.
They can take ten photos of a scene I'm in, and I won't appear in a single one.
Colonies of salty pools among yellow weeds and striated rock.