Mexichick
Carmen had been tricked before ... which is why she eyeballed the quarter on the ground very carefully before leaning over to pick it up. For a nickel, she wouldn't have bothered. A dime? Debatable.
I didn't have any idea where a kangaroo suit could be rented, but I didn't let that stop me. I was a woman on a mission. Not for a moment did it occur to me that finding the perfect costume would turn out to be something of a Pyrrhic victory.
"Speaking of cyclical patterns," Garth said, "what about water as it eddies down a drain?" Sandra jumped in. "Yes, yes! It swirls one direction in the Northern Hemisphere, and the other in the Southern. Or maybe it's the other way around; do you remember?" Garth blinked, slowly, as he searched for a response.
Simone's antennae were attuned to the slightest nuance. Even Margit had remarked on it at their second meeting, suspecting that Simone was calculating her responses based on almost imperceptible changes in the therapist's expression. From that point on, Margit conducted all sessions with Simone lying on the couch, unable to see her face.
We were used to humid weather in Yucatan, but this was something different. Not only was the air sticky; it smelled and tasted like licorice. Strangers commented on it as we passed each other on the street. Was it a natural phenomenon? A good omen? Toxic? The stronger the scent and flavor became, the higher our anxiety levels rose.
With three hooded figures in pursuit, Nora knew she had to find either a police station or a place to hide, fast. The former seemed unlikely, and the latter didn't look much better. She gripped the pepper spray in her pocket and wished she knew how to use it properly. Point and shoot? She wasn't even sure which direction the nozzle pointed.
The bracelet wasn't very feminine -- spikes, after all! -- but Chana loved it because it had been given to her by Aunt Fury, the infamous punk rocker, who was determined to toughen up her girly-girl niece if it was the last thing she did ... which it just about was.
Dani brushed Brittney's hair vigorously, as the little girl struggled to get away. "You. Just. Stop. That. Right. Now!" she shouted, then -- enough! -- smacked the bristles into her daughter's cheek, hard. Blinking in surprise as the welts rose and Brittney began screaming, Dani wondered: Had she really lost it this time?
Charity was overrated, Tarla thought, unless you were on the receiving end. She was just about charity-ed out, and her own financial situation didn't exactly make it easy for her to play philanthropist along with her Junior League friends ... at least, not without feeling the pinch for a week or more afterwards.
The gust of wind picked up the back of Donna's skirt just as she was leaning, arms full, into the trunk of her car. Mothers covered their children's (and husbands') eyes while Marie -- who really should have made haste to come to Donna's rescue -- did nothing but laugh helplessly. "Perhaps you should think about wearing underpants the next time you've got on such a short, flouncy skirt," she giggled, finally collecting herself enough to smooth the fabric back down over Donna's bare bum.
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