She’s got no clothes on, the woman has, nothing but a pair of galoshes. Galoshes I suppose on account of it’s raining outside, but I can’t imagine for the life of me why she’s got no clothes on. She’s sitting across the aisle from me on the bus, legs crossed I suppose because in spite of everything she’s still a lady, has the face, the poise of a lady, sensible like a lady to wear galoshes when it’s raining outside.

Originally published March 2, 2015 in Storm Cellar Quarterly, Volume 4, Number 2.

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