Matthew Quinn Martin
“So what do you do, Lisa?” Moira asked, lifting the mop into the wringer, and squeezing as she stared down at the mess of vomit, urine, empty coke vials, and torn condom wrappers on the floor of the night club men's room . “You in school?
“Uh huh, art history.”
“English lit, with a minor in sociology, graduated summa. Always knew somebody had to clean out the toilets of the world,” Moira said, slapping the mop on down on the tile. “Just didn’t think it’d be me.”