Over the Weekend (1), or When I Wanted White Hair

From my Amtrak seat, somewhere between Penn Station, NYC and Union Station, D.C., even without my glasses on I noticed her exiting our coach—her bouncy, flying-out mop, unearthly alabaster. Then later I found her on my phone, a random four seconds of footage. I’d happened to catch her boarding.

Glory glory. What I wouldn’t give.





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