What can YOU say in six sentences?
She's a tall drink of cherry Coke in the doorway of my lab. Her eyes drift, appraising the lighting before making her entrance.
I keep the lab disappointingly dim to discourage types like her and the high-heeled boys who want to leave their mark by being beautiful sparks, but nothing more.
She takes out her lipstick and, sans mirror, replenishes just her lower lip with a slick of war-paint-red.
"Izzis the math lab?" she asks, eyes drifting again, somewhere else, maybe a nightclub, maybe a nightmare, and I say no, because it isn't, and I run a tight ship and want her gone.
She turns to leave, her rudder of a behind in tight acid-washed denim almost out the door when she says,"Hey, whatjoo doin' in this place that you don't want no one to be seein' you?" and her laugh is a cold stream rippling down the hallway.