I had my classis black Ray-Bans perched loftily atop my head. My hair was a bird’s nest bun and my erratic bangs felt slightly greasy.

Right now, however, I didn’t give a damn. I focused on putting one barefoot in front of the other; dancing along the balance beam of a sidewalk curb. With both arms thrown out in ready set to fly with wings, a tattered moccasin dangling from each paint splattered hand, I teetered on the edge.

Cars honked.

Passerbys hooted.

Everyone, everyone swerved.

Away.

I heard the music before I saw it. It was a rucus of almost techno beats and bops characterized with a few healthy sreaming lyrics. It ended quickly and a soft guitar chord sounded with a slighlty nasal voice pledging love.

Midcatwalk, I stopped. A pastel green pickup truck slowed and a boy with a lazy smile greeted me. I barely heard him over the music but I’d always had a knack for reading lips. His were not hard to look at.

“Howdy, hun,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat, “T’s Scarlett, right?”