For Sale

The early dawn sunlight filtered through the canopy above Beachwood Canyon. She stepped out of her van and breathed the morning air light and crisp. Roads this early were quiet; only the remnant signage from the weekday construction offered a reminder of the clamor of the day. She removed the mobile clothing racks she brought with her, then uncovered the piles of vintage clothing she came to sell. Unfurling fabric, she visualized dollar signs in the stitching. Wilted petals of a jacaranda late in bloom fell around her as she awaited passing customers.

No. 066

Stingray

I saw the crowd before I saw him. A group of men and women in trendy clothes crowded around a ‘69 Corvette Stingray. Flash bulbs illuminated. Groupies hung about, watching, using their phones. Then I saw his face, and recognized the man behind the wheel: someone I’d seen before, a name I didn’t remember. I wondered if the car had been borrowed for the photo shoot, or if he had recently purchased. It certainly had never been in the neighborhood before.

No. 057

Greetings

Beside the Lutheran church, there was a boarding house in the old style. Rooms for rent by the week, month, year. I assumed they ate scheduled meals and commiserated in the evenings. As I stood across the street, a man exited the building, shouting expletives. I continued on my walk. Moments later, the same man came speeding down the road, shouting through his open windows. A bad day. As the car receded into the distance, I imagined him getting into an accident, what with the lack of focus and anger coursing in his veins.

No. 055