She drives a 1980 Volvo 343 Blue Special that her Dad handed down to her after College.
She sits in her car, down the block from her parents house, trying to figure out where to go for the night. Some friends text her earlier, and they presented options, but she has yet to make a decision.
The waning moon is clear in the sky and the August breeze moves gently through the half-opened windows of the car.
There is an unlit cigarette teetering between her lips and she listens to a song titled Everybody Daylight.
She reaches over to the glove compartment and opens it and searches for a lighter. Inside, there is a flyer for a show at The Secret Box. The exhibit is titled The Girls Who Only Smile For Party Pictures.
She isn’t going.
The song ends and then she plays a tape by The Cuts, a group from the early days of the NELA scene. The boy over the speakers sings about the passing of time, about pictures taken, about parties chased and the late night games.
She sings out loud, Put your lipstick on, as she fixed her hair in the rear-view mirror.
She has plum wine and a pack of cigarettes on the passenger seat and nowhere to go.