Saturday Night
Sahira had bought some Chinese takeout one night and had set her green crimoline wallet on her dresser. It was never seen again. The Big Mystery plagued her for weeks, as troops of friends came to search her apartment, shake their heads, puzzle out loud. Where could it go? By the time she had accepted it for lost, it was exam time, so she sent her last remaning id into the state and applied for a new license. Now, without identification, Sahira was secretly delighted that she had an excuse to avoid the nightlife, an excuse to study, for 3-4 business weeks. Sahira explained this brilliant development to Adelaide at the Elkland show. Adelaide mused over it for a few minutes, and then decided no. No, she liked drinking too much for that. She would have to watch her wallet closely while at Sahira's. The short-haired duo began their customary press against the other fans, pushing their way to the front, earning the scorn of all those behind them under 5'9- their exact shared height- and receiving elbows and curses in the way. Sahira began battling with a punkish looking girl with big earrings who refused to budge, and Adelaide took up the supporting front behind her, standing with her arms and shoulders equally spaced apart, curling her lip and pretending she was walking home in Queens again, at 3am after the last shift, with three hundred soft dollars in her pockets and her white restaurant shirt conspicuous.
Yeah, just like that.
Yeah, just like that.