Jetway

Something dislodged itself when she shook her hair. A faint possibility that grew larger until the moment of introduction; it cascaded into a story about the friend who she should meet back home. This is a lie that's told in retelling the truth in order to make the lie true. Superior in all respects to being honest is being anonymous - and she knew nothing of nonexistence. I lay into my bagel unaware of falling crumbs and she went back to The Economist. All-seeds have this problem, leaving a little piece of themselves in the tracks of oncoming traffic. Squeezed between the truth and a lie I always choose selectively; one more friend without a name, one more jetway to hollow out and greet with cloud. I can see class definitions in reading material. The curtain's always drawn and it's 1 bathroom for the rear of the bus as another woman says "babies are the new handbag, I gotta get me one." She's wearing her hair wrapped up, hiding it too, while telling compunctious stories.