Sad Eyes by James Morehead
July 2, 2011
Sad Eyes
by James Morehead
Driving south along Jarvis, I pass five girls. They catch my eye with high-cut leather skirts and jackets open to the street. One stands close to the curb -- flashing her thigh to attract another customer. In that moment, as my car rushes by, I see one face: a mask of make-up. Her sad eyes liven and wink as they catch mine. I don't slow down -- she looks away, disappointed. A black Seville, shrouded in tinted glass, glides along the curb. Two girls hop in the open doors. I try to watch in my mirror, but they blind me with a high-beam glare. The street is silent when I return, it seems that everyone sleeps but me and that girl with the sad eyes. She begins to run, then stops, as I slow for a red light.
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