She stood there with four little Mexican children touching things. She wanted to give me a payroll check for the room. I told her no check and pointed to the sign. Her son tugged on her jacket and said something in Spanish. The woman nodded and started laying her cash on the counter, dividing them into piles. A man eased into earshot and stood there grazing us with his eyes; at me then the walls then at the lady then the little Mexican children. 70 she said. I said 77.49 is the total. Tax I said. The son said something in Spanish again and the then she looked crushed and rummaged thru her coin purse. The man stepped up and handed over a twenty, he said to give the change to the lady. Then walked away. I observed her hair then, radish and full. Matted like a stiff Barbie doll. It was beautiful in a way. I wanted to speak to her, but we couldn’t understand each other.
So, in the spirit here are a few from my archives (archives sound so official, and arousing-ly food-like)
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