SHE AMBLES down the boulevard, cigarette at 4 o'clock, so as not to offend an imaginary friend. Stragglers, late afternoon lovers, are still in the cafes, waiters refill creamers, sugar bowls. She combs her hair with her fingers and sits at a metal table, orders Pernod. A man approaches, bows slightly, asks if he might borrow a light. She looks up, shields her eyes from the sun with a gloved hand and asks him to sit.
- A short story by Lou Beach
