Twilight on the clock

Under a sky awash with lurid purple, orange and blue, a
crow flies over the slums of Collin’s wood,
passing a dilapidated building with peeled paint and a dusty
window in which a light has just come on.

Down a dusty hallway, the sound of a young woman’s heels
click-clack across a haphazardly tiled floor.
Runs in her
stockings, the swing of her skirt seems almost hypnotic.
Her shoulders
wear a short-fur coat.
Her style accentuated by tortoise shell sunglasses,
poorly hiding a bruised eye.
She stops at an old wooden door with a glass window
it reads
“City Water Works – Main Office”
She knocks three times.
A young girl (18) with curly blonde
locks, half-hidden under a beanie, baggy T-shirt and
skin-tight black jeans, answers the door.

Yeah, what d’ you want?

The young woman lowers her sunglasses.

Business, of course.

Business is outdoors for a while,
but you happy to wait?

The woman barges
through the door, little Lizzie be damned,
with her eyes focused on the room,
throws off her short-fur coat, knowing the girl
would pick it up.

And Lizzie does just after closing the creaky
old door behind her,
But not before a large hand stops it from locking.

Well, well, seems business is right on time.

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