A Trio of Miniatures
Copyright © 2012 Atomic Quill Media. Published at Smashwords.
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She said she was from Kansas City but I didn't believe her. Santa Fe had to be her town and if we were there rather than in Omaha, I might have found her in a dark bar not far from the Plaza, shooting pool and listening to the jukebox as the sun blazed away outside.
She belonged to the sun, to the desert, even though she told me her mother was from Denmark. I didn't ask if her old man was an Indian but her skin was brown and smooth and she had a smile that confronted you, demanding an explanation but offering none. She was a tiny thing. And yet I was pulled into orbit around her and became a hopeful satellite, unwilling and unable to draw away.