Walks down the street past the window, a woman with bleached blonde hair done up in a fraying bun, in a heavy quilted coat, tight jeans and fuzzy mukluk styled boots. Glances back over her shoulder, up the street, as she nears the drive to the parking garage where a dark truck has been sitting, idling. It pulls forward as she approaches the drive and she advances, the driving rolling down his window. They talk for a couple of minutes and the street becomes busy suddenly with a number of cars rolling past, she seeming to pay attention in particular to a white truck as it goes by. She turns around once now with her coat held open and up in the back. Perfunctory. Matter of fact. Closes her coat. Another car passes and they talk a little more then as another man wanders up the street on the other side she crosses ’round the front of the shiny dark truck, climbs in the passenger side and they drive off.
A second woman comes down the street now, a little shapelier, form a little less hidden by her coat but not much less, wearing jeans, boots, arms crossed over her chest against the cold, hair straightened, lips shining in the dark under the weak and liquid street lamp. Crosses the street and speaks for a while to the loitering man, laughing. There’s something about the exchange that reminds me of the body language of workers on the service side of a cafeteria line. He goes on his way and now comes back around the truck the first woman had seemed to pay particular attention to. A somewhat ragged out, stripped down, utility looking truck. Pulls into the drive of the parking garage and turns around as the second woman advances, glancing back over her shoulder. He rolls down the window as she approaches and they talk for a while. Then he drives off to the right and she walks left, climbing the hill back up the street.
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