More For “Poor Big Rich Girl”
Another addition to a work-in-progress. You can see two other bits here and here.
Outside, the moon is wilted and dull. A homeless man whispers at her, intimately. She feels the lukewarm spit mist over her ear. He awakens her this way, and she simply stays still as he continues his nonsense monologue. Her shoulder aches urgently from her cement-bed sleep. Her eyes sting from the hours she spent crying before she laid her jelly body down. Her furrowed brows attest to the waxy pain in her snot-stuck head.
She remembers before, and scrambles to forget again. But it’s no use, and she’s back in the thick of her swollen feelings.
He had a starchy smile and a brassy laugh, yet he had won her trust by virtue of the fact that he paid attention to her, not her tittering peers. ”Why me?” she thought. ”Why does he think I’m special?”
And now it was obvious to her, as it had been to everyone else since the start. She had one attribute that drew him in, and only one: her glittering, ever-full, bottomless purse.
