Plus, she's weak and cooperative. Perhaps time has taught her to not resist either. She's learned to like peace too. She delivers her last lines as she's carried off the stage. The musician writes her off with the wave of his fat hand as if composing All Blues .
Air begins to travel into our lungs again.
The owner escorts her out to the world and scolds her. I think of the missing dishwasher. We all feel relaxed. The scary, red-eyed woman presses her nose against the big window glass and stares at me. Like a ghost.