Small Places : Nick L Belardes [34 of 128]

• Twelve.
• Joan has glazed-over eyes. They are shiny and bloodshot as she sits in my cubicle and speaks in a whisper. Her hair is a burnt frizz.
• Milt says: "I feel like a freakin' superstar. But too many tigers in those hoops while you're jumping can lead to unspeakable things."
• I write down his axiom. It's another bad saying for the book of Milt sayings. Joan continues to whisper. I don't listen. She thinks I am.
• Joan rants: "That &%$#! should be shot! He doesn't know who he's dealing with! I will lay down my resignation! He doesn't know shinola!"
• I can't understand how someone can purse their lips so much and still be able to form clear sentences. My mind wanders.
• I'm thinking about Mulani. She's dressed cute. It's formfitting. She's formfitting. Her hair is in pigtails. What happened between us?
• Joan paces. Milt's in his office speaking French to a French marketing contact who looks exactly like Ichabod Crane in a turtleneck squeeze