A woman stands among trees whose leaves blanket the earth. She’s wearing a long, cherry red coat. Her vibrant orange hair, a shade different than the leaves beneath her boots, blows across her eyes as she looks up to the pearl grey sky.
A man, laden with bags, mind preoccupied with cat’s eye glasses, wanders toward the door of a bus station. A friend is waving to him, though he expected no one. She’s waiting for someone on the bus he just got off of. Her friend is a minute behind him, wearing cat’s eye glasses.
People are in a toy store. A woman, in black jeans, brown shirt, eggshell hair ribbon and a vibratingly pink belt is looking at a man. He’s standing next to a mountain of stuffed animals holding a pink monkey. Her gaze lingers, then she will look away. He knows, and smiles, and will move closer to her.
A man approaches a garage sale. He’s excited. He feels improvisational prop comedy is an underappreciated art. He has a crazy look in his eye. He’s already spotted his first target. He reaches for the belt.
A man is standing, carrying the coast, trying to find a way through the gentle tides of teeming masses. He catches the eye of a pretty, but harried woman. They both look at the people, then again at each other. One sighs.
A man and a woman are sitting on the back bench of a Greyhound bus. The man is trying to convince her to come back to his house at the end of the ride. She’s been talking about her boyfriend. She’s been talking about her kids. She’s been talking about how she’s twice his age. He’s persisting. She’s starting to sweat.
A man and a woman are waiting in a car. She’s smoking cloves, and he’s rolled down the window to breathe. She’s talking about how her relationship with her girlfriend is different from the two previous relationships her girlfriend was in. They’re waiting for a call from said girlfriend saying that her ex has gone, or that her ex is trying to kill her. They don’t wait long.
A man is lying in a large, very plush and blanketed bed. He’s awake. He stares at the fan circling counter-clockwise above him. There’s motion under the covers. He’s rotating his left foot in a clockwise circle. He’s in pain, but only at 6 and 12.
A tiny girl is kneeling inches from a mountain of plush creatures and paper doll houses. Her eyes are bulging in wonderment, her finger edging towards and adjacent alien. Her mother stands behind her, chanting, “Don’t touch.” It’s pretty clear she’s going to break soon.
There’s a somewhat pretty woman standing in a cavernous white room. A man watches her. She knows he’s watching her, and thinks it’s sweet but misguided. She is mistaken, the man doesn’t care. There is a fight in the middle of the room. One fighter raises its fist, preparing to strike the other again. The other is resigned to its fate. The man notices how the woman’s boots cling to the shape of her calf. He makes a mental note.
A woman is talking to a man. She can’t not talk right now. She tells the man how, in a day and a half, her new lover will be with her again. She talks about her family, and betrayal, and organ meats. She talks about the time the man, nude, wrapped knotted cords around her, binding her body. She bursts at the seams with things to say. He is thinking about her sister.