I swear I saw her standing on my front steps again this morning, with a hand palm out and eyes welling. Yesterday she'd been walking on the opposite side of my street next to some guy talking to himself who didn't notice her shadowing. I'd looked up to see if it was safe to cross and my eyes lit on the street, then tits, then her. I felt shame right away of course, and almost missed the shimmer of leaves in clear view right through her. Well, of course my eyes widened at that, and I held contact with her faded face until her gaze came back. As soon as the pendulum (oops, again, raise eyes, smile) swung back to me I looked away blushing.	But she ditched the mumbler anyway, and stepped across the street toward me, Right in front of a bus. Just like the other week, the driver didn't even slow and ground her tenuous edge into a puff of diesel smoke. I flicked one tear out of my eye, onto the sign that says "please curb dog" and re-entered my tunnel. Tap, tap, on my shoulder and there she stood with one palm out and eyes brimming.	Later, at the office, (this is where it gets freaky) I'm taking a piss break between cups of coffee. Less anxious even than usual to return to my desk, I let my attention wander to the toilet paper's pattern. I'm not making this up. The cheesy quilting spelled out words on the roll, words that hurt to read. "Let the kid out to play," they began in an adultish scrawl, "and stop locking him up in the boxcar." "Stop letting my comeliness of form bar you from attention to my presence and I will forgive you. Give me your fingertips to touch mine tomorrow Just long enough to call meeting."
		I swear she smelled of lightning.