She drove a 1980 Volvo 343 Blue Special that her Dad handed down to her after College.
She was sitting in her car down the block from her parents house trying to figure out where to go for the night. Some friends had text her, and there were options. The moon was waning and clear in the sky, and the August breeze passed gently through the half opened windows of her car.
There was an unlit cigarette teetering between her lips, and she was listening to a song by Brightblack Morning Light.
She reached over to get a lighter from the glove compartment. In it she had some flyers for an art show at the Secret Box. The exhibit was titled, The Girls Who Only Smile For Party Pictures. She wasn’t going.
The song ended, and she put on a tape by The Cuts, a local group from the early days of the NELA music scene.
The lyrics varied. Some were about about the passing of time, others about the pictures taken, but most were about the parties chased, and the late night gamble.
She sang out loud, Put your lipstick on, as she fixed her hair in the rear-view mirror.
She had plum wine and a pack of cigarettes on the passenger seat.