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 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, the woman is, 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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